


Of Things Unseen

by queenxxxsupreme



Category: The Witcher, the Witcher Netflix
Genre: Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, F/M, Geralt of Rivia - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:46:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23577895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenxxxsupreme/pseuds/queenxxxsupreme
Summary: Darceria’s name is pronounced Dar-sare-ree-uh. Zephyrina’s name is pronounced Ze-free-na. Darceria hails from Romavek which I made up for the purpose of this story because it no longer exists which we will learn why later. Zephyrina is from Verden, an actual place in the Witcher world. It’s a kingdom in the northern part of the Continent bordered by Brokilon to the north and Cintra to the south. Also for the timeline, just this chapter takes place before Geralt meets Yennefer or claims the Law of Surprise on Ciri. This only applies to this chapter. I will update you on the time line as we progress. Thnx for coming to my second Ted Talk:) Sorry I’m talking so much. I just don’t want anyone to be confused. For those of you like me who haven’t read the books or played the games, some things such as locations not mentioned in the story or other little things that I’ve found on the internet about the Witcher can get confusing so I’m trying to explain it as best as I can. I promise these won’t be so long in the future. Feedback is welcomed as always
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Original Female Character(s), Jaskier | Dandelion/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 11





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Darceria’s name is pronounced Dar-sare-ree-uh. Zephyrina’s name is pronounced Ze-free-na. Darceria hails from Romavek which I made up for the purpose of this story because it no longer exists which we will learn why later. Zephyrina is from Verden, an actual place in the Witcher world. It’s a kingdom in the northern part of the Continent bordered by Brokilon to the north and Cintra to the south. Also for the timeline, just this chapter takes place before Geralt meets Yennefer or claims the Law of Surprise on Ciri. This only applies to this chapter. I will update you on the time line as we progress. Thnx for coming to my second Ted Talk:) Sorry I’m talking so much. I just don’t want anyone to be confused. For those of you like me who haven’t read the books or played the games, some things such as locations not mentioned in the story or other little things that I’ve found on the internet about the Witcher can get confusing so I’m trying to explain it as best as I can. I promise these won’t be so long in the future. Feedback is welcomed as always

{1253-Ten Years Before The Fall Of Cintra}  
{Winiford, located outside of Temeria}

Music filled the large ballroom, nearly drowning out the sounds of laughter and conversation. In the center of the room, people were dancing cheerfully, joyfully, celebrating the death of the Alp that had been causing carnage throughout Winiford. The creature had taken the lives of nearly two dozen citizens, including a four-old-boy. 

Around what was considered the area for dancing were tables filled with guests from all over the city, all of whom were privileged to be inside Lord Amaury’s mansion. The reclusive lord very rarely threw parties or invited anyone into his estate. Now that he had finally opened his home up for a party, the city was taking in everything. The atmosphere was warm and welcoming, a stark contrast to the raging blizzard outside of the mansion. 

Darceria tapped her nails against the silver chalice in front of her, listening to every little thing happening in the gigantic room. Three chairs down from her, Lord Amaury’s booming laughter made her flinch. Though he had a reputation for not being a big party person, he sure was enjoying this one. 

Darceria was small in stature, but her posture was perfect and the look on her face was firm as she kept her head straight. Dark red curls neatly framed her head. Her jaw was sharply defined beneath ivory skin. In the center of her face was a thin and delicate nose, and on either side of her nose were two white eyes that had long since lost their color. 

“I see the witcher.” Zephyrina hummed quietly, knowing Darceria could hear her. The two woman sat a few seats apart, having been split up by rowdy knights who had hoped to get Zephyrina’s attention. She was a stunning woman with warm honey skin and ebony hair that fell down her back in pin-straight strands. Her nose was just slightly up-turned and thick dark lashes rested upon pink cheeks. Her chocolate almond shaped eyes were attached to the two men who had just entered the room. 

Zephyrina turned her head, hoping to see her readheaded friend but instead seeing a burly bearded man watching her with hungry eyes. She smiled tightly at him before leaning back in her chair to look at Darceria.

“Should I make myself known to them?“

"They’ll come to you.” Darceria shook her head. She felt someone push themselves away from the table. It was Lady Rika, Amaury’s wife. Darceria waited a few heartbeats before standing herself. She swatted a hand away that reached out to try to help her.

“Do you need assistance, m’lady?” The man to her left asked her.

“No, I don’t.” She answered him firmly, taking the skirt of her navy blue dress in her hands as she stepped away from the table. 

“Be safe, Darceria.” Zephyrina whispered as she brought her chalice to her lips.

She could feel every vibration in the floor, every dancing step, every drunk stumble, every move she felt through the floor of the ballroom. She felt when a handful of the men at the table moved quickly as if they were all in a hurry to get to her side. They knew that she was friends with Zephyrina. She was their way of getting to the dark haired woman. 

“Ah, ah, boys.” Zephyrina stopped the men from crowding Darceria. “Leave her be.”

“But, m’lady….” One of the men whispered. “She is blind.”

“As you are about to be if you don’t leave her alone.”

Darceria smirked as Zephyrina snapped at the man. She always appreciated how Zephyrina stood up for Darceria when she needed it. She knew when Darceria needed help and when she didn’t. She treated Darceria like a person. 

Darceria easily moved through the crowded room, making her way for the large double doors that would take her out of the ballroom. People parted as the woman moved swiftly across the stone floor. Once they saw her milky white eyes, they immediately knew she was blind. Fearing she’d run into them, they moved out of her way. 

Across the ballroom, Geralt of Rivia stood with Jaskier by his side. The sight of the crowd of dancing people stopping their activities to get out of a woman’s way caught their attention. 

“I wonder who she is.” Jaskier thought out loud, his eyes briefly watching the redhead who seemed very determined to leave the ballroom. The bard turned his head to look around the room, inspecting the crowd. “There are a _lot_ of women here tonight.”

“Don’t go getting yourself into trouble, Jaskier.” Geralt mumbled under his breath, briefly glancing over to the man. “I won’t be saving your ass tonight.”

“You have such little faith in me, Geralt.” Jaskier patted Geralt’s bicep, which was nearly as big as his head. 

“I have faith that you’ll get yourself into trouble before the night ends.”

“Geralt of Rivia!” Lord Amaury stood up at his table that rested at the front of the room. He gestured for the witcher to join him. 

Geralt’s eyes flickered over to Jaskier. 

“Go, have fun.” He encouraged, already eyeing a group of women sitting at a nearby table.

“Where are you going?”

“Over here to chat with these lovely ladies.” Jaskier hastily spoke as he approached the table of maidens. 

Geralt grumbled from deep within his chest, uttering a few curse words under his breath, before going to Lord Amaury’s table. The Lord had a chair two seats down from him reserved for the witcher, next to a raven haired woman. 

“I hope you enjoy yourself this evening, witcher.” Lord Amaury nodded his head once to Geralt before returning to his conversation. 

“You ought to be pleased with yourself, witcher.”

Geralt turned his head to see a raven haired woman holding a strawberry in her hand. She was studying it, turning the fruit around as she spoke to him.

“Lord Amaury never throws parties unless they are for his day of birth.” Her dark eyes flickered over to him as she turned her head just a little to get a better look at the man. “Then it’s women exclusively invited to those events.” She took a bite of the strawberry while maintaining eye contact with him.

“Are you invited to those events?” Geralt asked her, absentmindedly brushing his thumb across the pads of his fingertips. She swallowed the fruit and placed the green leafy part down on her plate. 

“Sometimes.” She grinned just a little, nodding her head. “I’m Zephyrina of Verden.”

Geralt said nothing in reply. He held her gaze for a few moments before turning his head to look around the room. 

“You don’t like crowds, do you?” Zephyrina picked up a grape and put it into her mouth.

He grunted in reply.

“Strong silent type.” She nodded her head, brushing her long black hair over her shoulder. “I admire that.”

“I’m not a fan of small talk.” He turned his head to look at her once more. 

“That’s a shame, witcher.” She sighed out, shifting around in her seat. “You’ve got a handsome voice.”

Geralt breathed out through his nose. He looked over to where he had last scene Jaskier but the bard was no longer there. He stiffened up, panicking just slightly. Where had the troublesome bard run off to?

***

Once she stepped out of the ballroom, Darceria took a deep breath to regain her grounding. She smoothed out her navy blue dress, enjoying the smooth silk texture of the skirt. 

As she began to move through the halls of the mansion, she paid close attention to the noise her heels made against the floor. The clicks echoed off of the walls and reflected the sound back to Darceria. This was how she managed to get around without anyone by her side. 

Her footsteps weren’t the only ones in the hallway. There were two more sets around a corner. Darceria stopped at the end of the hall she was in and pressed her back to the wall, listening carefully to what was taking place at the opposite end of the next hallway. One of the people was a woman. She could tell because they were wearing heels and Darceria could hear the material of her thick skirt moving as she hastily made her way down the hall. This was Lady Rika. The second person was a man who carried himself with heavy, wide steps. There was a slight limp in his gait. He put more weight on his left foot than his right. Darceria didn’t know who he was, but she assumed it was the assassin she saw murdering Lord Amaury.

“Have you decided when you want to go through with this?” The man’s voice was rough and sharp.

“Not now. It’s too crowded.” Rika shook her head. “Wait for the night to almost end.”

“The longer I have to wait, woman, the more it’s going to cost you. I’m losing money just standing around here.”

Darceria heard someone walk out of the ballroom and towards her. She gritted her teeth together, knowing that if anyone saw the assassin speaking to the lady of the mansion, they’d end up being killed. 

She turned and began to walk down the hall in the direction of the man approaching her.

“I’m so terribly sorry.” 

Darceria could hear the smile on his charming voice.

“I couldn’t help but notice you leaving earlier and when you left, everyone noticed….” The man trailed off as she neared him. He took noticed of her white eyes.

“Come along, Jaskier.” Darceria reached out to put a gloved hand on his shoulder. “Your time isn’t tonight.”

“Wha-What-What’d you mean?” He fumbled over his words, his brain still trying to process her empty eyes. How did she know where he was? Could she actually see? Was she just void of any pupil or iris in either eye? “How do you know my name?”

“Because our paths were bound to cross eventually.” She sighed out, still urging him to go back towards the ballroom. “I’ve seen it numerous times.”

“Seen it?” He repeated, turning his head to look down at her. She was surprisingly strong for such a small woman. 

“I can explain later.” She lowered her voice as they entered the ballroom. A soft smile crossed her lips as her hand slipped from his shoulder. She clasped her hands in front of her waist. “Just enjoy the night in here. Don’t venture out into the halls unless you favor a knife in your stomach.”

Jaskier was left near the doors to the ballroom with his mouth wide open, staring at the mysterious woman as she walked around the room this time instead of straight through the dancing crowd. 

***

Darceria took her seat next to Zephyrina, tucking her navy skirt underneath herself as she scooted her chair up to the table. She wrapped her fingers around her silver chalice and lifted it to her lips but didn’t take a drink just yet. 

“They are waiting until later on in the night.” She spoke just loud enough for Zephyrina to her left to hear her. 

“Oh joy.” The raven haired woman clapped her hands together. “That leaves us the rest of the night to enjoy ourselves, doesn’t it?”

“If that is what you would like to do for the rest of the evening.” Darceria nodded her head gently. She took a sip of wine before placing the chalice down on the table. 

“Oh, Darceria.” Zephyrina leaned back in her chair. “You must meet my friend, the witcher.”

On the other side of her, Darceria could feel the witcher. She had been able to feel his presence since he entered the ballroom earlier. His magic was different than that of a mage or druid. His magic was old and cryptic. His scent was musky and very earthy but it was appealing to Darceria’s ever-so sensitive nose. His heartbeat, however, was what captivated her the most. Out of every other heart she could hear in the room, his was the slowest. 

“I am not your friend.” His voice was deep and low. He spoke quiet, probably because he too had sensitive hearing. Darceria had heard such stories that witchers had highly developed senses. 

She could feel his eyes on her, watching her, waiting for her to look in his direction so that he could get a better look at her face. But she kept her head straight so it appeared that she was watching the crowd dance happily. 

“The witcher.” Darceria repeated, humming softly as she folded her hands together in her lap. “Geralt of Rivia, I suppose?”

He answered her with a low grunt. He could sense something off about this woman. Not only was she refusing to look at him and meet his gaze, but there was also some sort of magic essence to her. His amber eyes studied the woman carefully. She wasn’t exactly a sorceress, but she did have magic qualities he could feel. It was a little different than the other mages and sorceresses he’d come across in his time. While he usually just felt a tingle in his fingertips, this woman’s energy was buzzing, electrifying, and everywhere.

“And your name is?” He curiously asked her. Darceria didn’t answer him immediately. She hadn’t been expecting him to speak after his little grunt of a reply. 

“Darceria.”

He turned his head to direct his attention to the center of the ballroom.

“Darceria.” He repeated just low enough for himself to hear, or so he thought. Darceria was the only other one in the room who could hear him say her name, testing it out on his tongue. A little smile tugged at her lips.

Darceria listened to conversations taking place around the room, tuning in and out of different ones until she found Jaskier chatting with another bard.

“Who is the woman sitting next to the redhead up at Lord Amaury’s table?” He asked the bard.

“That’s Zephyrina of Verden. She’s a tough one, mate.” The bard shook his head, taking a swig of ale. “She won’t pay any attention to you unless you’re rich or royalty.”

“I am going to go talk to her.” Jaskier grinned, pushing himself to his feet. 

A little smile tugged at Darceria’s lips. She focused on his footsteps as he crossed the room, not so smoothly moving out of the way of a dancing couple in the process. 

Zephyrina caught sight of the brunette approaching the table. She took in a soft deep breath, preparing to tell the man off. But she hesitated. His blue eyes remained locked on to her face, a warm and inviting smile played on his lips. She turned her head to Darceria.

“Who is he? The one nearing us?”

“Ask him for yourself.” Darceria wrapped her fingers loosely around the stem of her chalice. She didn’t like telling anyone of the future she saw for them. It never ended well. The future was fluid, constantly changing and moving, shifting from one destiny to another. Besides, it was much more fun to listen to the scene unfold rather than spoil the ending. 

Geralt sighed heavily at the sight of Jaskier going around the table behind the two women. The witcher watched the bard carefully. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Jaskier with the women. He wasn’t too sure he trusted the women. The few words they had shared with each other were odd and puzzling.

“Hello, ladies.” Jaskier greeted both women, though Zephyrina was the only one to look in his direction. Darceria kept her head turned straight ahead. “Would you like to dance with me?” 

The words came out before Jaskier could stop them. Usually, he was much better at being smooth and suave–or attempting to be–but this time, all of the grace and elegance had disappeared. 

Icy blue eyes gazed into Zephyrina’s deep chocolate orbs. She found herself at a loss for words for a few heartbeats, a little smile pulling at the corners of her red lips. 

“You haven’t even asked me for my name yet. And I don’t know yours.” She shook her head.

“All the more reason for you to join me.” He held his hand out, raising his brows just slightly. She bit the inside of her lip, her eyes flickering to Darceria for a second. 

“You’ll be okay here?” Zephyrina asked under her breath. The redhead answered with a small, almost unnoticeable nod of her head. Zephyrina looked back to Jaskier, placing her hand in his. “Zephyrina.”

“That is an absolutely stunning name. Fitting for a woman as breathtaking as you.“

Darceria shook her head softly. The smile that graced her lips didn’t go unnoticed by the witcher now sitting an empty chair away from her.

“Is something wrong?” Geralt asked her.

“He has no idea what he’s just gotten himself into.” She brought the chalice up to her lips. “Zephyrina will eat poor Jaskier alive.”

Geralt looked back to the woman and the bard. How did she know his name?

“I’m sure if he had to choose a way to go, your friend would be his preferred death.”

Was that a joke? Darceria laughed softly, placing the chalice down on the table. She pressed her palm flat to the table, her nails tapping the wood softly. 

“Do you know him?” 

The question caught her off guard. 

“I’m sorry?”

“Zephyrina asked you who he was.” Geralt turned in his chair just slightly so he could see her better. “Do you know him?”

“We passed briefly in the hallway earlier tonight.” Darceria placed both of her hands into her lap. “But we’ve never met.”

“Then how do you know his name?”

She did nothing for a while. Her blank eyes stared ahead at the crowd. Then suddenly she stood up and excused herself from the table. Geralt followed her, however he made sure not to seem suspicious or aggressive as he did so. He didn’t want to attract any unwanted attention. 

He placed his hand on her arm, causing her to come to an abrupt stop. Her breath hitched in her throat at the sudden contact and for the first time since they met, she turned to face him. That was when Geralt was able to actually see her eyes, the way the irises and pupils were absent from the white orbs. His brows furrowed together as he looked down at her. If she was blind, how had she been able to move so fluidly through the ballroom just moments ago?

“Get your hand off of me.” Her voice was quiet and timid. It wasn’t a demand. It almost sounded like a plea. Geralt immediately released her, his hand falling to his side. Her blank gaze focused on his chest, her lips parted as she softly shook her head. “Even if I tried to explain, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.” He challenged. Darceria chewed the inside of her cheek for a moment, turning her head as she heard a group of ladies pass them. 

“Good evening, Darceria.” One of the women greeted her as they came to a stop next to the redhead. The woman was a brunette with fair skin and hardened brown eyes. “Are you enjoying your evening, Darceria?”

“Good evening, Rigunth.” Darceria smiled tightly, nodding her head just once in acknowledgement of the group. “I am, yes. Thank you for asking.”

“That’s good.” The fake smile on Rigunth’s overly painted red lips made Geralt uneasy. She wanted trouble. Rigunth turned her attention to him, eyeing him up and down as if he was some sort of painting she had the right to stare at. “Is this your friend, Darceria?”

Darceria could hear the mocking tone in Rigunth’s voice and sense that she was only there to cause issues, to stir up drama. The redhead wore a smile that was forced and anything but friendly. She let out a soft breath and turned her head back to Geralt. 

“Will you walk with me, Geralt? I don’t want to bump into anyone.” She held her hand out for him. 

Slightly taken back by her request, Geralt took her hand in his and led her away from the mischievous bunch that had gone out of their way to pester them. As he guided her through the room, he made sure to stay closer to the walls. There were less people there. 

Darceria paid close attention to the feelng of her hand in Geralt’s; it was hard to ignore. His was much larger than hers and more worn. His skin was coarse and rough from decades of use, a sharp distinction to her own hand. She could feel a few rises in his palm and along the bends of his fingers. They were scars. 

She slipped her hand out of his and instead chose to hook her dainty hand around the crook of his elbow. Her opposite hand came up to hold the other side of his elbow. It wasn’t necessary but she liked keeping her hands busy. 

Again, he was caught off-guard by her actions. He hadn’t expected her to be so sure of what she was doing. She was, after all, a blind woman in the presence of a witcher, the White Wolf, the Butcher of Blaviken. Surely she’d be afraid of him.

“Now why would you ask for me to guide you when you and I both know very well that you are capable of moving through this room with no help?” Geralt inquired, turning his head to look down at her. He was truly curious. Being a witcher, he was always able to accurately guess what creatures he had come across, whether they were monsters, human, or something in the middle. This mysterious woman was something in between a monster and a human, but he couldn’t figure out _what_ and quite honestly, it was driving him insane. 

“Rigunth has this overwhelming ability to make me want to put my head through a stone wall.” Darceria sighed out, her fingers curling gently into the fabric of his black jacket. “And I didn’t want her to say anything rude or crass about you. She has a terrible habit of bringing up things that shouldn’t be brought up.”

Geralt turned his head to watch where they were going. He led the way out of the ballroom. Once they were out of the massive and packed room, their pace slowed down to one more leisurely and relaxed. 

“You asked earlier how I knew of Jaskier’s name even though we’ve never met.” She started. Her white eyes stared ahead but her ears were focused on the rest of the hallway, listening for anything out of place. “You’re a witcher. Surely you’ve heard of all things monstrous and anything related.”

He grunted in reply. Darceria smiled softly at the sound, deep and guttural. 

“I am an oracle. The last surviving one, actually.”

Geralt was silent as he took in what she had just said. He knew very well what an oracle was. He’d met only two in his lifetime. But Darceria figured his silence meant that he didn’t know what she was saying.

“An oracle is someone who can see events that have yet to happen–,”

“I know what an oracle is.” He cut her off, turning his head to look down at her. “Oracles are native to Romavek.”

“Mhmm.” Darceria nodded in reply.

“Romavek perished a decade ago in a civil war. There were no known survivors of the war.”

“There were only a handful of us.” Her voice lowered to a quiet murmur. Geralt felt her grip on his arm tighten as she spoke. “I was one of the lucky ones.”

“You know…. No one really knows what happened in those three days.” He looked down at her.

“It took three days for the entire kingdom to fall.” Her voice was shaky, trembling as she spoke. Her heart was beating quickly inside her chest. “I don’t really know what happened either, if that’s what you were wanting to know.”

Geralt said nothing. He wasn’t sure if she was lying to him or if the subject just made her anxious but he could hear her racing heart perfectly.

“But that’s all in the past.” Darceria took a deep breath to steady her heartbeat and the churning tension in her stomach. “Tonight, I am here with Zephyrina because I saw Lord Amaury die.”

“How?”

“His wife has hired an assassin.”

“Do you know who the assassin is?” Geralt came to a stop and turned to face Darceria. Her hands slipped from his arm. She chose to clasp her hands together in front of her hips. She kept her head straight, white eyes blankly focused on his chest. She shook her head gently.

“All I know is he’s a large bulky man. He favors his right foot when he walks. If I heard his voice, I’d be able to recognize him.”

Geralt looked down the hallway they had just come from. The light pouring out of the ballroom lit the hall just in front of the double doors.

“Have you seen when Amaury dies?” The witcher looked back to the redhead in front of him.

“All I have seen is how he dies. A dagger to the neck. But just earlier when I was out in the hall, I heard Lady Rika tell the man that she wanted to wait until the party was closer to ending.”

Geralt hummed as he thought of what to do. He looked back down the hallway, curling his fingers into a tight fist by his side.

“I think that what would be best now is if we return to the table and you can keep an eye on Lord Amaury while I listen for the assassin.” Darceria suggested, turning to go back towards the ballroom. Geralt moved to follow her. Feeling his presence next to her, she reached out to wrap her hand underneath his bicep. Even through the material of his evening jacket and the silk shirt underneath that, she could feel the tense muscle of his arm. “If I am making you uncomfortable, Geralt, please let me know. As you pointed out earlier, I don’t need to do this.” She squeezed his arm just slightly.

“Then why do it?” He softly asked.

“Because maybe I like to have a strong, man guide me through a crowded room of drunk imbeciles.”

He grunted in reply. Darceria smiled to herself.


	2. Prologue Cont.

Geralt pulled Dareceria’s chair out for her and waited for her to sit down before returning to his seat. This left them with Zephyrina’s empty chair between them.

“Is Jaskier having fun with Zephyrina?” Darceria asked as she picked up her chalice. She kept her voice low and quiet so that only the witcher could hear her.

She knew the answer to the question. She could hear Zephyrina’s joyful laughter as Jaskier spun her out and then pulled her back into his arms. Darceria just wanted an excuse to talk to Geralt.

“I would assume so.” He answered just as quietly as she had spoken. “She seemed hesitant to accept his offer earlier.”

“She’s cautious.” Darceria placed her chalice on to the table then put her hands in her lap. “All her life, men have thrown themselves at her only for her wealth or for her appearances. It’s taken it’s toll on her.”

“Wealth?” Geralt turned his head to the redhead, who nodded.

“Her father was a lord in Verden. He passed away three years ago. That’s when our paths crossed.”

“Where have you been since the collapse of Romavek?” He inquired.

“Here and there.” She softly shrugged her shoulders. “Keeping myself busy as much as I can.”

“You could be anywhere on the Continent. Your abilities would be far more useful somewhere like Cintra or Kaedwen. Why here? Winiford?”

“Because this is where Zephyrina is.” Darceria forced a smile on to her lips. “This is where she is happy. I can’t leave her.”

Geralt hummed in response, turning his head back to watch Jaskier and Zephyrina dance.

Darceria gave up trying to talk to the witcher. She wasn’t interested in talk about herself. So instead, she tuned in to different conversations happening around the room. When one bored her, she’d move to another. Her fingers brushed along the stem to her chalice as she listened.

Her stomach tightened when she heard the familiar uneven gait of the assassin. He was making his way across the room towards them. Darceria acted quickly but calmly. She stood from her chair with her chalice in hand and moved into Zephyrina’s seat.

“He’s in here.” She brought her chalice to her lips and took a small sip.

“Where?”

“He’s coming towards us. Listen to his movements. He’s favoring his right foot so there’s going to be a slight limp in his gait.”

While she spoke to him, Geralt’s eyes flickered around in search of the man. He spotted someone matching Darceria’s description. He was a tall man with broad shoulders and a big beard that came half way down his chest. His dark hair was tied back to stay out of his face.

“Do you see him?” Darceria asked.

“Yes, and we’ve made eye contact.” Geralt sighed out as he looked away from the man.

“Just pretend to talk to me.” Darceria crosses her knees and turned a little towards the witcher.

“About what?”

“Anything.”

She could sense the man’s presence. He was growing closer and his eyes were boring holes into the side of her head.

“How long do you plan on staying in town?” Darceria asked him, placing her hand on his arm.

“I’m leaving in the morning.” Geralt found himself gazing at her, studying her features as much as he could. There was the faintest scar beneath her left eye that stretched for about three inches across her cheek.

Darceria turned her head away from him to listen to the assassin walk around the table. He was going for Lord Amaury. Geralt saw this and stood up but Darceria’s hand squeezed his arm.

“No, not yet.”

“He’s going to–,”

“He’s just going to talk to Amaury. He isn’t going to do anything.” Darceria shook her head gently. Geralt sighed through his nose and returned to his seat.

“Ah! Thomasin.” Amaury greeted the man sent to kill him. “It’s so good that you made it, dear brother!”

Geralt turned his head to Darceria. He refrained from letting out a sigh. Thomasin was Amaury’s younger brother. 

“You didn’t say the assassin was Amaury’s brother.”

“I didn’t know.” Darceria shook her head. Her ability didn’t grant her the knowledge of knowing exactly every little detail of future events. She only knew the important things. “All I saw was him killing Amaury.”

The witcher grunted.

Zephyrina sat down in the empty chair next to Darceria, and Jaskier took the seat on the other side of Zephyrina. The two laughed at something Darceria hadn’t paid attention to.

“It sounds like you two are having a grand evening.” Darceria turned her head to look to her raven haired friend.

“Jaskier is a decent dancer.” Zephyrina giggled softly.

“Decent?” Jaskier mockingly clutched his chest. “I can’t believe you’d say such a thing.”

“How about you two?” She rolled her eyes at the bard, a smile playing on her lips as she looked to Darceria. “Is the silent witcher good company?”

“I prefer silent company to loud company.” Darceria stated. She picked up her chalice and moved the remaining liquid around inside the cup.

“Why don’t you take her dancing, Geralt?” Zephyrina suggested, leaning around Darceria’s chair to look at the witcher. “She’s a rather good partner.”

Darceria’s eyes widened and her hand that remained in her lap curled around the material to her dress. Sometimes her friend’s bluntness caught her by surprise.

“I don’t dance.” Geralt’s voice was deep and low.

“Oh, I don’t believe you.” Zephryina shook her head. 

“Zephyrina, leave him be.” Darceria told her. “I don’t want to dance.”

“I don’t think I’ve properly met your friend.” Jaskier was turned to face Zephyrina, one of his elbows resting on the table. 

“Oh, where are my manners?” Zephryina put her drink down. “Jaskier, this is Darceria. Darceria, this is Jaskier. He’s the witcher’s bard.”

Without warning, Darceria stood to her feet and moved around the table. Zephyrina furrowed her eyebrows together, watching the redhead. 

“Did I say something?” Jaskier asked Zephryina.

“No, you didn’t. She just has her moments.” She sighed gently. 

Gerlat kept his eyes on Darceria, unsure of what she was doing. She moved around the table to where Thominson was leaning against the table next to Amaury. She was moving straight for Thominson. What was she doing?

Geralt stood to his feet and hastily moved after her. His large strides made it easier to catch up to the woman. Before he could reach her, she bumped into Thominson with enough force to spill the drink in his hand all over the front of his clothes. 

“Fuck!” He cursed, turning to face whoever had caused the mess. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, woman?”

“I’m so sorry, good sir.” Darceria’s eyebrows drew together with feighned worry. “I-I didn’t know you were standing there.”

“Try using your goddamned eyes.” He snapped at her. He hadn’t paid enough attention to her to notice her eyes were lacking pupils or irises. 

“Darceria!” Geralt hissed her name as he put his hand on her arm. 

“Is this your wench, witcher?” Thominson demanded. 

“She is not mine, but I’d rather you not call her such names.” Geralt’s tone became cold and harsh as he looked to the man. Thominson clearly didn’t like the witcher getting an attitude with him. He took a step towards the white haired man and the redheaded woman. 

“What are you going to do about it, _mutant_?” 

Geralt moved Darceria so that she stood behind him. His hand remained on her arm to ensure that she would stay safely behind him. 

Thominson stood a few inches taller than the witcher but Geralt was bigger in width. His broad shoulders packed more muscle than Thominson’s. 

“I’m not fighting you, Thominson.” Geralt spoke calmly. “But if you are rude to her again, I’ll have no problem knocking your teeth down your throat.”

“Enough.” Amaury stood from his seat. He looked down the table to where the bard and Zephyrina were. “Zephyrina, come get your sister. Take her to her seat.”

Darceria listened as Zephyrina stood from her chair and crossed the space that separated them. Zephyrina placed her hand on Darceria’s shoulder to guide her to the other end of the table, but the redhead hesitated to leave Geralt’s side. She didn’t want to leave him alone with the man who was going to kill his own brother. 

Feeling Darceria move from behind him, Geralt loosened up. He no longer felt the need to stand tense and rigid, prepared to fight Thominson.

“There’s no need for a fight tonight, gentlemen.” Amaury said, looking between the two men. 

Geralt locked his jaw tightly and turned to follow Zephyrina and Darceria to the end of the table they sat at. 

“What the hell was that?” Geralt sat down in his seat next to Darceria.

“It’s best not to question me.” She picked up her chalice to finish off what wine she had left. 

“Well I’d rather know why I just almost got into a fight with the lord’s asinine brother.”

“I never asked you to follow me.” She pointed out. 

He gritted his teeth together, sighing heavily through his nose.

“Don’t do something stupid like that again, Darceria.” Zephyrina pinched the bridge of her nose. “Thominson is not one to mess around with. He’s beaten women for looking at him the wrong way. He’s a prick.”

“Sounds like he deserves to have his ass beat.” Jaskier muttered.

Darceria remained silent. She didn’t like explaining herself to anyone. Most of the time, it only made things more confusing.

“Why did you do that?” Geralt clearly wasn’t ready to drop the subject. He wanted to know exactly why she had walked up to the man she knew was going to murder his own brother. 

“Every oracle has visions differently.” She started off, keeping her voice low enough so only he could hear. Her head remained straight, as if she was watching the dancing crowd in front of her. “I only see the important things first. I saw Amaury die. Then as the time gets closer to the main event happening, I start seeing or hearing more. They’re just little bits and pieces though. Running into Thominson and making him spill his drink all over himself has made him have to leave the room. 

Geralt turned his head to look down in the direction of Amaury. Thominson was no where to be seen. Lady Rika, however, was eyeing the witcher. Underneath the table, she was tapping her foot.

“Rika is watching you, isn’t she?” Darceria folded her hands in her lap. She didn’t wait for Geralt to answer her. “Her plan was to have Thominson here for the rest of the night. Now he has to go to his room and get clean clothes. She anxious, nervous. She isn’t sure if Thominson will hold his end of their deal.”

“Deal? What deal?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen that part.” Darceria shook her head. “All I know is there’s some sort of deal between them. The more nervous she gets, the more likely she is to drink to ease the nerves. By the time Thominson prepares to slaughter his brother, she’ll be a drunken mess. I’m sure she won’t be able to keep secrets at that point either.”

The witcher gazed at the woman sitting next to him, captivated by her knowledge and what she was capable of. 

“How much longer before Amaury gets killed?” Zephyrina leaned over to whisper to Darceria. 

“Two hours.” 

***

“Where are you going, Darceria?” Zephyrina was quick to question the woman as she stood from her seat.

“To stretch my legs, Zephyrina.” She sighed out, brushing her hands over the dark blue skirt to her dress. “Is that okay with you?”

“I just don’t want you getting yourself into trouble.” Zephyrina rolled her eyes at Darceria’s sarcasm.

“I can take care of myself just fine.” Darceria mumbled under her breath before she left the table.

Geralt’s eyes stayed glued to her, watching her move in and out of guests and their tables with grace and elegance. She disappeared through the large double doors on the opposite side of the room.

“She’s cute, isn’t she?”

The witcher turned his head to look at Zephyrina, who had one elbow propped on the table and her chin rested on her fist. She had been watching Darceria as well but as Geralt looked to her, she turned her head to meet his gaze.

“She’s not a virgin, you know.”

Jaskier choked on his ale, hitting his fist against his chest. Geralt grumbled from deep within his chest.

“I didn’t ask.”

“Well, men think she is because of her eyes.” Zephyrina softly shrugged her shoulders. She glanced over to Jaskier to make sure he was alright. He shook his head and waved her off even though he couldn’t speak. She sighed at him and brushed her dark hair over her shoulder so she could card her fingers through the long strands. “She’s had lovers before. She doesn’t speak much of her life before we met, but she had a husband.”

Geralt said nothing so Zephyrina continued.

“She has this way of pulling people in.” She turned her head back to the witcher as her voice turned to a soft whisper. “I’ve seen it. I’ve witnessed it. Hell, I was even subject to her magnetism. Sometimes I wonder if it’s because of her gift, because she knows who will enter her life when and how important they’ll be.”

Geralt glanced over to the woman out of the corner of his eyes. She was just rambling now.

***

Darceria moved back and forth in the hallway just outside of the ballroom, zoning out of what was happening around her so that she could try to see the next movements of Thominson and Rika. She wanted to know exactly what was going to happen.

The pads of her thumbs brushed against her fingertips as she moved through hallway, her eyes closed and her lips parted.

Without any warning, she was suddenly slammed against one of the stone walls. A hand wrapped firmly around her throat, not enough to cut off her oxygen supply but enough to hold her against the wall. Her heart hammered against her chest, her hands coming up to grab the wrist of the person holding her.

“You thought you could make me look like a fool in front of everyone?” Thominson hissed, his vile breath reeking of ale.

“Get your hands off of me.” Darceria spoke through clenched teeth.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to give orders, wench.” His grip tightened on her throat. Her nails dug into his skin, nearly drawing blood. One of her hands left his wrist to reach out for his face. He didn’t get a chance to lean away before her palm made contact with his forehead. She ushered a vision to him, a vision she’d had the previous night about a kingdom’s fall. There were soldiers dressed in all black storming a city, slaughtering anyone in their path, including children and women. Fires blazed here and there, started by the black soldiers.

His hand released her immediately as he staggered back. His dark eyes were clouded over as he was forced to see what Darceria wanted. She collapsed to her knees, coughing harshly. She rubbed her neck. She could feel the exact instant the vision started for him because her energy started to vanish. She felt weak and exhausted. Her eyes were heavy and her fingers trembled.

“Darceria!”

She could hear Geralt moving towards her. Darceria snapped her fingers and the color returned to Thominson’s eyes. He fell to his hands and knees a few feet from her, his head hanging as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“I thought you said you were just going for a walk.” Geralt knelt down by her side. He reached out to put his hand on her shoulder. She flinched from the contact. He immediately pulled away, thinking he had hurt her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Darceria’s hearing was faltering. Geralt sounded further away than he actually was, but she could feel his presence next to her and smell his oh-so familiarly earthy scent.

“You’re a goddamned witch!” Thominson growled through his teeth. “What did you put in my head?”

Geralt looked to Thominson, who drew a dagger from his side. Geralt stood to his feet, watching the man as he pulled himself to his own. He seemed unsteady and shaky.

Darceria felt Geralt step in front of her. She pressed her palms flat to the stone floor in an attempt to feel what was happening. Her hearing was messing up so she needed some way to _see_ what was going on.

Thominson charged for the witcher, raising his dagger. Geralt easily caught the man’s arm and shoved him back with enough force to make him hit the wall across from them. Thominson was quick to recover, pushing himself from the wall. 

Darceria lost track of what was happening. They were moving too quickly, too fluidly and with her lack of hearing, she couldn’t keep up. Her heart raced as she waited for something to happen, for Thominson to kill her or Geralt to be near again. Everything was black and empty. Her ears began to ring with a pitch so intense that she cried out. She pulled her hands from the floor and put them over her ears in an attempt to get the noise to go away or lessen. 

A hand on her back made her jump. She reached out to grab the wrist of the person, her fingers curling tightly around the wide wrist. Being that her hand was against the person’s bare skin, she could feel their heartbeat. It was slow but not as slow as Geralt’s usually was. He was breathing heavy from fighting. 

“Geralt.” She whispered his name. 

Beside her, the witcher had knelt down and tried to get her attention. She was holding her head and her eyes were squeezed shut. She’d cried out once before, just before he used Thominson’s dagger to kill Thominson himself. Geralt repeated her name in an attempt to get her attention but it was like she didn’t hear him. That was when he put his hand on her. This time instead of flinching violently, her fingers latched around his wrist with a surprising strength. 

Geralt didn’t say anything. He couldn’t find his voice as he looked down at the redhead. Her eyes had opened but her head was tilted down. Her lips were parted as choppy breaths came in and out. The way she uttered his name almost like a prayer made something inside the witcher stir. It was a feeling he’d never felt before and one that he’d probably never be able to explain out loud. There was something inside him that lit like a candle in an empty room. 

“I’m right here.” He spoke softly to her. 

A few silent minutes passed as they stood there, catching their breath. Both of them were so caught up in the moment, in the other person, that they hadn’t seen a guard leave the ballroom only to find the witcher and the blind woman a few feet away from the body of Thominson. The guard quietly but hastily made his way back into the ballroom to alert Lord Amaury.

Slowly, Darceria’s hearing came back and suddenly she could hear everything. She put up the wall that protected her sanity, that kept her from hearing everyone constantly. She only chose to hear Geralt’s slow and steady heart beating in his chest. 

She shook her head, her eyebrows drawing together. 

“I can’t-I can’t hear him. Thominson’s heartbeat.” She rasped.

“I killed him.” Geralt looked down to realize that her hand was still holding on to his wrist. Her grip wasn’t as tight anymore but she still held him like she was afraid to let go. “Darceria, what happened?”

“I just came out here to see what happened. Sometimes when I’m alone I can make visions happen.” She retracted her hand from his wrist and rubbed her forehead. “I wasn’t focused on listening to things around me. He grabbed me and tried to choke me.”

“How did you get him to let you go?”

She shook her head again, her hand falling from her head to her neck. 

“I can sometimes make people see what I want them to see, mostly things I’ve seen. I showed him a new vision I’ve been having. It’s horrific and terrifying.” Darceria whispered gently. 

“Can you stand?” 

“Not on my own.” She laughed awkwardly. “Transferring my visions to someone else always sucks the life out of me.”

Geralt offered her a sturdy arm so she could rise to her feet. Her hand held his muscular forearm. 

“Seize the witcher!” Amaury shouted from the opposite end of the hallway. Darceria could feel Geralt tense up and turn to face the lord and his guards. 

“Stop!” She shouted, holding her hand out to the guards that hesitated to approach the White Wolf. She let go of Geralt and moved to step in front of him as if she’d be his shield in this fight. 

The guards instantly stopped and lowered their weapons at the sight of the blind woman. 

“This witcher saved your life.” Darceria told Amaury. Her head faced him, her white eyes seemingly locked with his. Goosebumps rose across the lord’s skin as he stared back at this woman. “Your brother was going to murder you before the night ended, my lord.”

“Preposterous.” He scoffed. Behind Darceria, Geralt kept a watchful eye on the lord’s guards. They weren’t sure if they were willing to kill the woman to get to the witcher, should she be a problem.

“I’m an oracle, Lord Amaury.”

“Oracles are an old wives tale.” The lord didn’t believe her. He was too young to remember much about Romavek. He was just a child when the secretive kingdom fell. 

“No, we aren’t. I can prove it to you.” She offered, holding her hand palm-up towards the lord. Amaury hesitated. He looked back to the witcher. Geralt held his gaze. 

“He’s not going to come any closer to me.” Geralt told Darceria under his breath. 

“Then I will go to him.” She took a step away from him but Geralt took ahold of her arm. She turned her head back towards him, her white eyes finding the floor. “If you don’t let me do this, then one of us will die here tonight.”

Her words caused him to release her arm. He had to trust her. She was an oracle. She knew what she was doing. Watching her cross the space between where she had been in front of Geralt to Lord Amaury made Geralt’s insides churn. He didn’t like the idea of her being alone and vulnerable. 

As the redhead approached the lord, his men put their swords down and granted her passage. She moved through the crowd of guards until she stood in front of Amaury. She took his hand in hers and closed her eyes. She pushed images of Thominson murdering Amaury into the latter’s head, and then she made Amaury listen to Rika’s earlier conversation with Thominson.

Geralt watched curiously, carefully, as Darceria touched Amaury’s hand. His eyes went white, the same empty white that filled Darceria’s. And then she released Amaury’s hand. The color returned to his eyes and he closed them, bringing his hand up to his neck. 

“I had a vision two nights ago that you died on this night.” Darceria stepped away from the lord, though Geralt saw that she took the step because she was unsteady on her feet and needed to regain her balance. He could hear her heart racing, begging for some sort of relief. Transferring her visions had proved to exhaust her. 

“Thominson has been working with your enemies in the west. He told them he’d get rid of you tonight and come morning, anyone who ever thought of overrunning you would be here to take your city. He’d take pay from them after he murdered you.“ Darceria clasped her hands together behind her back. “And your wife…. She wants you dead.”

“How…. How can you do that?” Amaury was in awe.

“I am an oracle.” The corners of her lips turned up just slightly. “Now that the White Wolf has not only saved your land but also your life, I’d surely hope no harm would come to him.”

“No, none.” Amaury shook his head, looking back to the witcher. “How can I ever repay you, Geralt of Rivia?”

“This wasn’t my doing.” He took a few steps towards Darceria. “Had Darceria not been here, I would no have known of your brother’s plan of betrayal. This victory is hers to claim.”

“Darceria.” Amaury reached out to take her hands. She was surprised by the action and slightly overwhelmed. “I’d like to offer you a position here within my home–,”

“Save your breath, Lord Amaury.” Darceria firmly shook her head, pulling her hands from his. “I do not wish to be tied down. I like my freedom.”

***

“There they are!” Jaskier stood from the table as he watched Darceria and Geralt move through the crowd towards them. 

“Where the hell have you two been?” Zephyrina’s stayed on Darceria. Her arm was wrapped around one of Geralt’s arms to provide stability. She leaned against him, using the strong man to the best of her advantage. Her knees were shaky and her breathing was uneven. Her skin seemed paler than usual and there were dark circles underneath her eyes. “What happened to her, witcher?”

“I’m fine, Zephyrina.” Darceria shook her head softly. “I am just tired.”

“What about Amaury and his killer?” 

“That’s been handled.” Geralt let Darceria go as her hand slipped from his arm. He watched her move towards Zephyrina, who held her hand out for the redhead. It was almost like she knew Zephyrina would be there for her, holding a hand out to aide her. Darceria reached out and put her hand in Zephyrina’s.

“Do you want to go to your room?”

“I do.” Darceria nodded her head. “But I hate to make you leave when you’ve been having so much fun here.”

“I’ll walk you ladies to your rooms.” Jaskier offered.

“I’d appreciate that.” Zephyrina gave him a little smile. 

***

“Where’s Geralt?” Darceria asked Zephyrina quietly. The two women had their arms laced together as they moved through the mansion towards their guest rooms. Jaskier was on the other side of Zephyrina, keeping them company. 

“He disappeared somewhere in the ballroom.” Zephyrina grinned just a little, turning her head to look at her friend. “Why? Were you hoping he’d take you to your room?”

“Zephyrina.” Darceria sighed heavily. “No, I wasn’t. I just wanted to know where he was. I was curious.”

“Geralt isn’t one for crowds.” Jaskier shook his head, scrunching his nose up. “Or groups really. He’s not a people person.”

“That’s quite a shame.” Zephyrina brushed her hand over Darceria’s arm absentmindedly. “I’m sure he’d make great company. He’s a handsome one. I told him you weren’t a virgin.”

“Zephyrina!” Darceria gaped, turning her head to the woman. “Why in the hell would you bring up my intimacy with him? Or with anyone?”

“I had to keep us busy while you were gone.”

“You are the absolute worst.” Darceria rubbed the side of her face. 

Zephyrina and Jaskier came to a stop outside of Darceria’s room while Darceria continued on into her room, twisting the doorknob and stepping into the pitch black. She listened as Zephyrina and Jaskier whispered back and forth very briefly.

“Give me a few minutes and meet me at my room. It’s four doors down from this one.”

“How long is a few minutes?”

“Ten.”

“Right. Good.”

Darceria slipped out of her aching heels and raked her fingers through her curly hair. The door to her room shut behind Zephyrina. 

“You don’t have to stay here with me, Zephyrina. You can go with Jaskier.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m going to braid your hair before you go to bed. We both know that if you sleep with your hair down after the day you’ve had, your hair will be even more of a mess than it usually is.”

“My hair is manageable.” Darceria moved towards her wardrobe. Her fingers brushed across the door until she found the knob. She pulled it open and then began to finger through the dresses hanging. 

“Would you like me to help you?” Zephyrina asked. 

“No.” She shook her head. She moved to the end of the wardrobe with nightgowns and picked out one that had long sleeves. “What color is this?”

“Black, just as most of your clothes.” 

Darceria nodded her head and pulled the article of clothing down from the wardrobe. She then moved to stand behind the folding screen in the corner of the room.

“What do you think of Jaskier, Darceria?” Zephyrina looked at herself in the vanity mirror, fixing her hair and adjusting the bust of her dress. 

“I think he’s a decent man. His voice is pleasant. He’s very animated with his hands.” 

“I’d sure hope so.” Zephyrina sighed out, a little smile coming to her lips. 

“Zephyrina.” Darceria shook her head with a laugh. “You’re terrible.”

“He’s awfully handsome.” She turned around as Darceria emerged from the folding screen now in a black silk nightgown. The sleeves covered her arms but there was a deep V in the neck of the gown. “I’d surely hope tonight isn’t the last night I see him.”

Darceria knew that tone. Zephyrina wanted Darceria to tell her if they would run into the bard again in the future. 

“Come, sit.” Zephyrina motioned to the stool in front of the vanity. Even though she’d known Darceria for three years, it was easy to forget that the woman was blind. So often she acted as though she had sight. Her gift allowed her to see. Her sight was just different than everyone else’s.

“You know I can’t tell you, Zephyrina.” Darceria took a seat on the stool and brushed her hair back over her shoulders.

“I know. I just wish you would. It would make things so much easier.”

“Not really. If you knew what happened in the future, you’d act differently and the future would change. Destinies would change. Fates and fortunes would fall into chaos and you’d ruin any hope of that future that you were told of coming true.”

“I hate it when you sound all mystical.” Zephyrina muttered. She began to play with Darceria’s hair, pulling strands back into a braid. 

“Zephyrina?”

“Yes, Darceria?”

“What does…. What does the witcher look like?” Her voice was quiet and timid. 

“He’s tall and rugged. His shoulders are broad and his arms are terribly muscular.”

“Terribly.” Darceria repeated, smiling softly at Zephyrina’s mocking tone. She had felt just how muscular the man was on more than one occasion that night.

“His hair is white and just a little longer than shoulder length but he had half of it tied back tonight.”

“And his eyes? I’ve always heard that witchers have yellow eyes.”

“Yellow is pretty bland for how I would describe them. The bloody amber things pierce right into your soul, I swear it.”

“I think you’re being dramatic.” 

“I am never dramatic.” Zephryian teasingly rolled her eyes. “Are you asking about Geralt of Rivia because you fancy him?”

“No, I don’t, Zephyrina.” Darceria muttered. “I just wanted to know.”

“Are you going to ask about Jaskier?”

“What does Jaskier look like, Zephyrina?”

“Well he’s got a cute little ass in those tight pants he was wearing tonight.”

***

Darceria moved towards the door to her bedroom, pulling the robe off of a chair at the end of her bed. Someone had knocked on her door, pulling her from the light slumber she was in. She brushed back a few stray curls that managed to break free of the braid Zephyrina had done the previous night. The braid was proving to be strong than Darceria thought. It managed to stay in the whole night with the exception of a few pieces of hair that neglected to stay where they were. As she neared the door, she could hear his slow and gentle heartbeat. 

She unlocked the door and pulled it open. 

“I’m sorry to wake you.” Geralt spoke, glancing down the hall briefly to eye a couple servants whispering to each other. He brought his attention back to Darceria. “I’ve come to collect the bard from your friend.”

“Are you two leaving?” Darceria asked softly. She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Yes. We were suppose to leave yesterday but Amaury talked us into staying for the party.”

“I’m glad you did stay.” She smiled up at him. “Our paths wouldn’t have crossed had you not.”

Geralt was silent, gazing down at the blind woman.

“Did you know how the night was going to go? Did you know we were going to meet?”

“I can’t disclose any information like that with you, Geralt.” She firmly shook her head. “It messes things up. Destinies and fates and futures…. It’s all very sensitive.”

“And you are the one burdened with seeing it all.” He murmured gently. She nodded her head. He let out a sigh, fixing the strap across his shoulder. “What if I told you I didn’t believe in destiny?”

“Then you’re certainly not as wise as I thought you were, oh mighty witcher.” 

A little smile tugged at the corners of his lips. The sound of a door opening down the hallway caught his attention. He turned his head to see Jaskier stepping out.

“So this is farewell?” Geralt asked Darceria. He couldn’t deny what he felt with her, the draw he felt to her. He couldn’t explain it either, but the thought of leaving her wasn’t sitting right in his stomach.

“Perhaps.” Darceria nodded her head. “Unless our destinies cross again.”


	3. One

{Ten Years Later–1263}

“How many times do I have to save your ass in one day, bard?” Geralt muttered under his breath. He led the way through the crowded street of Kaister, a village hidden between the kingdoms of Kaedwen and Kovir.

“I didn’t need you to step in.” Jaskier grumbled, messing with his lute.

“If Geralt hadn’t saved your ass back there, those men would’ve killed you.” Ciri told him very matter-of-factly. She followed just a few paces behind the bard, her shorter legs having to work nearly twice as hard to keep up with just Jaskier. Geralt was a lost cause. He always moved too quickly, too smoothly for her.

“Ciri.” The witcher glanced over his shoulder to the young girl with hair so blonde it was nearly white. He wasn’t a fan of the young girl cursing.

“I was just chatting.” Jaskier pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. The wind was relentless as they journeyed through the village. Snow had begun to fall a short time ago. The small fluffy flakes were quite brutal as they fell from the sky.

“And you were doing a grand job at that.”

“Yeah, okay, Ciri. I don’t need the attitude. I get plenty from him.” Jaskier gestured to the witcher ahead of him. Geralt shook his head, mumbling a few curses to his ancestors.

Geralt placed his hand on the door to the tavern just as he heard rushed footsteps. He glanced over his shoulder to see two men moving quickly through the streets past him, bumping in to Ciri and Jaskier in the process.

Ciri watched them too. Her eyebrows furrowed together as she watched them disappear around the corner. An arm wrapped around her chest, pinning one arm to her side. A hand came up to latch on to her mouth. Ciri reached out to grab the sleeve to Jaskier’s cloak. Her fingers just barely made contact with the coarse material before she was being ripped away and taken through the crowd.

Jaskier turned to make sure Ciri was okay after being pushed by the two rude men. His brows furrowed together when he didn’t see the little girl where she had been at his side just a moment ago.

“Ciri?” He turned in a full circle, becoming frantic when he didn’t see her. “Geralt!”

“What now?” Geralt turned to face him. When he saw that Ciri wasn’t with the bard, all traces of annoyance disappeared and concern took over. “Where is Ciri?”

“She-I-I don’t know. She was just right here. She was right here.”

Geralt looked around, his eyes searching for the girl. The crowd was too thick, too full of people moving here and there. They were trying to get home or get what they needed before the blizzard hit.

“Geralt!” Her shrill cry came from his left.

His head snapped in that direction just in time to catch sight of a man hitting her over the head. She fell limp in his arms. He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. 

Without hesitation, Geralt took off through the mass of people, pushing and elbowing his way through. Jaskier was right behind him.

“Why are they taking her?” Jaskier asked. He was doing a surprisingly good job at keeping up with Geralt but only because Geralt couldn’t sprint through the busy street.

Geralt rounded the corner he had last seen Ciri and the man. The witcher came to a sudden and unexpected stop, causing Jaskier to run into him.

“Why-Why are we stopping?” Jaskier panted, stepping out from behind Geralt.

Standing in the middle of the street was a woman. She wore a black cloak with the hood covering what dark red curls it could. Her skin was ivory white, a stark contrast to thecloak on her shoulders. Connected to the reins she held in her right hand was a white horse. The woman’s head was tilted down towards the man laying on the ground. He was the one who had taken Ciri, who was also on the street unconscious.

Geralt’s eyes studied the woman carefully. He knew those crimson curls and that soft heartbeat anywhere. 

“Darceria.” His gruff voice broke through the silence. 

“Get her off of the ground, Geralt.” Her words were quiet and soft, just as he remembered it. The horse next to her snorted. “She’ll get sick if she stays down there.”

Jaskier saw her lips move but couldn’t hear her. 

“What did you do to this man?” Jaskier looked down to the man on the ground. He was flat on his back with his hands by his sides and his eyes closed. It was as if he’d willingly put himself on the ground before the redhead.

Geralt moved to Ciri’s side, concerned for her well-being. Darceria turned her head to her horse, bringing her hand up to rub its long jaw. Jaskier moved with Geralt, wanting to stay close to the witcher and the princess.

“Hey, I…. I know you.” Jaskier pointed to the redhead, squinting his eyes at her. It was her white eyes that gave her identity away. “Darceria, right?”

A soft smile came to her lips as she nodded her head. 

“Jaskier.” Darceria fell silent for a few seconds, listening to the storm clouds above. “There’s a storm coming.”

Geralt picked Ciri up and stood to his full height, his eyes remaining on Dareceria’s white orbs the entire time.

“Hello, Geralt.” 

“Darceria.” He nodded once to her. 

Darceria stayed there for a moment, relishing in the sound of the witcher’s familiar heartbeat. It brought an odd sense of comfort to her that she couldn’t explain, one that she longed for. 

“Come along.” She turned and began to guide her horse through the street. “It’s best not to get caught out here when the snow begins to fall.”

“Are you still with Zephyrina?” Jaskier was quick to move to Darceria’s side, eager to know about the raven haired beauty he met years ago.

“I am. She’s where we are going.”

Geralt didn’t bother resisting Darceria’s words. There was no point. She was an oracle, blessed and cursed with seeing the future. 

***

After retrieving Roach from a stable she was being kept at, they ventured out of the village and down a dirt road. 

“You knew we were coming.” Geralt spoke from behind her. 

“No, actually. I’ve been having dreams of the princess.” Darceria turned her head to speak over her shoulder. “I dreamt of Cintra’s fall a decade ago. Black soldiers slaughtering the city, women and children dying merciless deaths, the deaths of soldiers. It was horrific, and even worse in person.”

“You were there?” Jaskier looked over to Darceria. She nodded her head once.

“I was suppose to leave with the princess and a couple others but we were separated.”

“Ciri knows you?” Geralt asked. 

“She may know my name or my face, but I haven’t properly met her. Calanthe was careful who she let meet the princess.”

The small cottage came into sight. It was hidden by a thick but brief line of trees and vegetation that served as a barrier to the outside world. The dirt road led straight to the house. 

“And what about Zephyrina? Was she in Cintra?” Jaskier didn’t mean to sound panicked. Darceria said she was taking them to her so surely she was okay.

“No. She left the day before the gates to the castle broke. I sent her here. This is where I saw Cirilla.” Darceria gestured to the cottage. “It belonged to a man and his wife a few years ago. They died of pneumonia. Winters here can get rather harsh.”

She was leading Jaskier and Roach towards the stable that held a dark brown horse with a black mane and dark coloring around its ears and legs. This was Ada, Zephyrina’s horse.

“i neglected to see you two until I heard you in the village today. Go on, take her into the house. We don’t want her dying from hypothermia.” 

Geralt looked to the cottage and then to Darceria before moving towards the house. Jaskier followed Darceria into the small stable. 

“What’s her name?” Jaskier reached over to pet the white horse.

“His name is Winston.” Darceria brushed her hand along the creature’s back before she found the saddle. She found the buckle to the saddle and began to undo it.

“Please, let me help.” Jaskier offered, letting go of Roach to move towards Darceria.

“I have no problem doing this myself, Jaskier.” She pulled her hands away as she felt his presence near her. She was only mildly irked that he’d offer to help. He was being a gentleman, but Darceria didn’t like being helped.

“What kind of man would I be if I let you do it by yourself?” He have her a charming smile. He picked up where she left off. “Does, uh, Does Zephyrina ever talk about me?”

“She used to speak of you daily.” Darceria began to scratch Winston’s neck. “But she doesn’t linger on the past. She stopped talking about you, but I doubt she ever stopped thinking about you. She really thought the world of you.”

“She did?” He smiled shyly. Darceria nodded. Jaskier pulled the saddle off of Winston, grunting just slightly under the weight. “Can I ask you a question, Darceria?”

“Of course.” 

Hearing that the saddle was now off of her horse, Darceria led Winston into his stall. The horse snorted and bobbed his head up and down. He didn’t like being locked away, but with the oncoming blizzard, it wasn’t safe to let him roam.

“You’re able to see the future, so hypothetically, you’re able to what happens with me and Zephyrina–,”

“There is no _hypothetical_ about it.” She cut the bard off. “I can see things that have yet to happen, things that are mapped out for us. But I cannot share with you what I know.”

“Then what’s the use in being an oracle?” Jaskier took Roach’s saddle off and placed it over a few bales of hay. 

“The future is a lot more sensitive than what you’d think, Jaskier.” Darceria clasped her hands together in front of herself. “Put the horse into the stall next to Winston.”

Jaskier did as told and then locked the stall before he started to walk with Darceria towards the stone house.

“Telling you what happens would influence your choices now, thus changing the future that I would tell you about. And often times when the scales of fate and destiny are knocked out of balance, chaos ensues.”

“What about when you see a vision of your future?” Jaskier glanced over to the redhead. “What happens when you act out in hopes to make that future better?”

“There are instances where that happens, but I often don’t see my own future unless I am apart of someone else’s vision. If I do happen to see something involving myself, I do my best to stay unbiased.”

The bard nodded his head, furrowing his brows together. Darceria pushed the door to the house open. 

“I don’t know if asking you questions answers my questions or creates more questions.” He muttered.

Geralt sat at the kitchen table. Across from him was Zephryina. She stood up as soon as the doors opened, her hands nervously balled up by her sides. Jaskier lifted his gaze from the floor to anxiously look around for Zephryina. He’d been waiting as patiently as he could to see her. His heart was thumping in his chest as he gazed across the room at the dark haired woman. 

“Hi, Jaskier.” A smile crossed her lips. She gracefully moved across the room to embrace the bard. 

Darceria moved further into the kitchen, pulling the hood of her cloak off of her head. 

“You would’ve never guessed that they only knew each other for one night ten years ago.” Geralt mumbled under his breath, turning his head away from the two. 

“You’d be surprised how connected two could feel after just one night.” Darceria hummed. She untied her cloak and placed it over the back of a chair. “If the stars are aligned correctly and fate decides it so, then anything is possible.”

“You put a lot of faith in fate.” Geralt watched her sit down in the chair Zephyrina had previously been in. “Too much, even.”

“It’s sort of my thing.” She flashed him with a white smile. Her head was tilted down a little as if her blank stare was gazing at the table top. “Perhaps you have too little faith in fate, Geralt of Rivia.”

He grunted in reply.

“It doesn’t even feel like ten years.” Zephyrina pulled away from Jaskier to return to the table. She took a seat next to Darceria, her hand finding the oracle’s arm. “It feels like just yesterday.”

“Oh, it’s been ten years for you two.” Darceria leaned back in her seat. “But Geralt and I ran into each other three years ago, was it?”

“Three.” He confirmed with a nod of his head. “In Kaedwen.”

“Darceria.” Zephyrina furrowed her brows together, turning her head to look at her closest friend. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It wasn’t necessary.” She shook her head gently. “We just bumped into reach other, said our greetings, and parted ways.”

Her words were true. The two didn’t have much time to chat. Darceria was busy tending to important issues for Queen Calanthe. 

“Geralt!” A panicked Cirilla called out for the witcher from the spare bedroom she had been placed in. 

Geralt was on his feet and down the short hallway in a matter of seconds. 

“Oh, shit.” Zephyrina cursed, remembering she had been making soup before Jaskier walked in. 

“That girl in there is extremely powerful.” Darceria glanced over her shoulder to where Zephyrina stood. “She’s unlike any magic I’ve ever felt before.”

***

Darceria listened to Ciri’s footsteps. They were soft and quiet against the floor. 

“It smells lovely in here.”

Darceria her head to look in the direction of Ciri’s small voice. She stood in the hallway with Geralt right behind her. The redhead smiled softly.

“I hope you like it. It’s an old recipe my mother taught me when I was young.” Zephyrina turned towards the princess, wiping her hands on a rag. “I’m Zephyrina, and this is Darceria.”

The platinum blonde furrowed her brows together, her piercing blue eyes finding the oracle sitting at the kitchen table. She studied Darceria’s milky white orbs.

“Darceria?” Ciri repeated. “Princess Darceria of Romavek?”

The room fell silent. Darceria’s lips parted and the air in her lungs escaped. She hadn’t expected the young princess to call her out like that. Hell, she didn’t even expect Ciri to know who she was. Calanthe always kept her in the dark. 

“Excuse–I’m sorry, excuse me.” Jaskier held his index finger up, his eyes widening as he looked to Darceria. “Princess? She said princess.”

She pressed her lips into a firm line as she curled her fingers around the skirt of her dress. 

“I-I had no idea that they didn’t know.” Ciri shook her head, her voice small and uneven.

“It’s okay, Cirilla.” Darceria shook her head. “You didn’t know.”

“You’re a princess, Darceria?” Zephyrina whispered, moving to stand off to Darceria’s side. Her eyebrows were knit together. A mixture of confusion and betrayal crossed her features. 

“Zephyrina–,”

“I’ve known you how long and you never once mentioned that you were royalty? Let alone Princess of fucking Romavek!”

Darceria remained silent. Hearing Zephyrina raise her voice hurt. Loud noises were never her favorite, but in all the years she’d known Zephyrina, never once had she raised her voice at her. 

“What else are you keeping from me, Darceria?”

Darceria softly shook her head. 

Zephyrina stormed out of the room and down the hall. Even though she knew the loud bang was coming, Darceria still jumped upon hearing the door to Zephyrina’s room slam shut. 

“I’ll, um, I’ll go talk to her.” Jaskier suggested. 

Darceria turned her head to the left, taking a steady deep breath through her lips. 

“I am so sorry, princess–,”

“Don’t apologize, sweetheart.” Darceria cut Ciri off, forcing a smile on to her lips as she turned her head in the direction of the young girl. “I take it your grandmother told you of me?”

“The…. the last time I saw her….” Ciri’s eyes dropped to her hands. “Right before I left Cintra, she told me to find Geralt and you. She said you’d have white eyes and dark red hair. It was Mousesack who told me that you were of Romavek.”

“Mousesack.” The redhead sighed out, rubbing her eyes.

“My head is hurting.” Ciri brought her hand up to gingerly rub the back of her head. She turned to look behind herself at Geralt, who had remained silent since bringing Ciri out of the room.

“Perhaps you should rest more, princess.” Darceria suggested. “You can go lay down in the spare bedroom.”

“Okay. Thank you, princess.”

Darceria gritted her teeth together at the title, her eyes closing as she tilted her head down. She hadn’t been addressed as _princess_ in over two decades.

Ciri left the room, quietly returning to the spare bedroom to hopefully sleep off her headache. This left the witcher and the oracle in the room alone together.

“Princess of Romavek.” He moved to sit at the table with her. “As far as I knew, Romavek only had two heirs to the throne. Princess Gisela and Prince Tassilo.”

Darceria nodded her head, opening her eyes even though she really didn’t need to. She crossed her knees and settled back in her seat, her hands folding together in her lap.

“When I was young, when my parents first learned of what I was, what I could do, they kept me away. I was hidden in the shadows like a beast.” Her voice lowered as she nodded once again. She lifted her head, taking a deep breath to push those emotions aside. She wasn’t prepared to confront them. “While Gisela and Tassilo learned how to rule the kingdom, like they were one day promised, I learned the ways of an oracle.”

Geralt was silent for a few moments, listening carefully to what she was saying. She wasn’t lying. Her heartbeat was surprisingly normal. But her hands trembled.

“Calanthe knew of who I was because Romavek was the only country Cintra would work with, and even then Cintra was too egocentric and Romavek was too secretive.”

“Why did you keep it from Zephyrina?” He asked quietly, softly. He wasn’t angry at her. There wasn’t a trace of hostility in his tone. He was only curious.

“I didn’t think I’d ever have to tell anyone. I was never treated like a princess within the palace walls, so why announce to everyone that I was the unwanted princess of Romavek? I’ve always just been Darceria. I didn’t want anyone to treat me any different.”

He nodded softly. He didn’t know what to say. There was really nothing he could say.

Jaskier emerged from Zephyrina’s room a few moments later, quietly closing the door behind himself.

“How is she?” Darceria asked.

“She’ll be fine. A bit hurt but she’ll get over it.” Jaskier sighed, sitting at the table next to Geralt. “She’s being a bit short right now so I decided to give her space.” He clasped his hands together on the table and glanced to Geralt, who firmly shook his head. “Princess of Romavek, huh?”

The witcher next to him grumbled deep within his chest.

“Yes, Jaskier.” Darceria nodded her head. “Do you have questions?”

“I would absolutely love to turn this into a ballad–,”

“Jaskier–,”

“Hear me out, Geralt!” Jaskier put his hand on Geralt’s arm and looked to Darceria. “The Lost Princess of Romavek. Or maybe just the Lost Princess. I’d have to mess around with the title a bit but there’s so much potential–,”

“Oh, you’re going to be the death of me.” Darceria sighed out as she pushed herself to her feet.

“I–Princess, I have questions! Where are you going?”

“To talk to Zephyrina.” She answered over her shoulder. “And never call me that again, Jaskier.”

She moved swiftly down the short hallway, her fingers gliding along the wall. The first door on the left was Zephyrina’s. Using her knuckles, she lightly knocked on the door.

“Zephyrina? Can I come in?”

“Yes.” The answer was muffled through the door but Darceria heard just fine. She twisted the knob and pushed the door open.

Zephyrina sat at her vanity, pulling a brush through her long raven hair. Her back was to Darceria but she watched the redhead through the mirror of the vanity.

“I don’t want an apology.”

“I didn’t come to give one.” Darceria moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “I won’t apologize for doing what I did. I only wish to explain to you why I chose to keep it from you.”

Zephyrina turned around on the stool, putting her brush down as she furrowed her eyebrows together at her friend.

“Thirteen years, Darceria. That’s how long I’ve stuck by your side. And you didn’t trust me enough to let me know about your blood?”

“You would’ve wanted to know of my _grand_ childhood.” Darceria whispered, unable to make her voice any louder. “Of-Of what it was like to grow up in the Palace in the heart of Romavek, the secret city hidden from the outside world.”

Zephyrina said nothing. She didn’t like the sound in Darceria’s voice. Darceria lowered her sightless eyes to the direction of her hands. She shrugged her shoulders softly and shook her head.

“From the moment I was born, Queen Linota wanted nothing to do with me. She hated me, Zephyrina. Whether it was my eyes or what I was…. She never felt anything towards me other than dislike and discontent. Anything I did was never good enough. My posture was never good enough, my annunciation was never good enough, my manners were never good enough. Nothing was enough for her. But my father was the opposite.” A little smile tugged at Darceria’s lips. “My sister, Gisela, always said father would choose me over her or our brother in a heartbeat. Everyone said I was his favorite. He was always so patient with me.”

“I had no idea, Darceria.” Zephyrina murmured. Now she felt guilty for getting upset with Darceria.

“It’s okay.” She forced a smile on to her lips. “If I hadn’t gone through what I did, I would never have met you, and you are the best sister I could’ve ever asked for.”

Zephyrina moved to sit next to Darceria and wrapped her arms around the woman.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” Darceria returned the hug, squeezing Zephyrina tightly. “I should’ve told you. I just…. I was afraid of bringing up old wounds.”

“If you need to talk, you know I’m here.” Zephyrina pulled away and brushed her hair out of her face.

“Thank you, Zephyrina.” Darceria smiled in her direction. “You’ve got food in the kitchen to tend to.” She reminded her.

“Fuck!”

***

By nightfall, everyone had had their fill of the delicious soup Zephyrina made. Jaskier and Zephyrina had slipped off to the latter’s room some time ago. Ciri was sleeping in front of the fire with a blanket over her and another one under her head.

Outside, heavy snowflakes fell from the sky. The moon was shining and its light reflected off of the fallen snow, lighting everything up even more.

Geralt sat on a bench against the wall not too far from the fire. Darceria had been quietly cleaning the kitchen. When she finished, she moved to sit beside Geralt. In her hands she held a warm cup of tea.

“The day has surely has been a long one.” She brought the cup up to her lips.

“Do you see tomorrow?” Geralt turned his head to look at her. She nodded in confirmation.

“Bits and pieces, which worries me.” She admitted, lowering the steaming cup from her lips. ”It’s not that I’ve seen anything alarming. There’s just a feeling in my stomach that tells me there’s going to be trouble tomorrow.”

“Should you trust that feeling?”

“I’m an oracle. Those feelings are instinctual.”

He was silent. Darceria liked that he didn’t have the need to talk constantly, but at the same time, she enjoyed the sound of his voice. 

“Can I ask you something?” He looked at her out of the corner of his amber eyes. 

“Of course.” She took a sip of her tea. 

“What happened in Romavek?” He kept his voice low, not wanting to disturb Ciri. 

Darceria’s fingers tightened around her mug. She shook her head, white eyes falling to her lap. 

“It was terrible.” She whispered, her voice threatening to crack as she did her best to keep her composure. “I had seen it happen weeks before, but I always thought it was another kingdom. The visions and dreams were all too blurry. I couldn’t tell what it was of until it was too late. I’ve been cursed with the ability to see empires fall all my life. It’s natural. Order and disorder live together. You can’t have one without the other. That is why when one grows too heavy, the balance breaks and chaos ensues.”

She paused for a moment, taking her bottom lip between her teeth as she thought of what to say.

“Many believe there was a force from beyond the palace that attempted to overthrow King Arkin and Queen Linota. But there was no outside force. There was only Gisela.”

“Your sister?” Geralt furrowed his brows together. Darceria nodded her head. 

“For as long as I could remember, she was…. different than everyone else. She was cold, cynical, and calculated. She wanted the throne more than anything, but our brother stood in her way. That’s why she slaughtered him first.” There was a brief moment where Darceria swore she could hear her brother’s loving voice call her name. She could smell his scent, lavender and sandalwood. “Tassilo never stood a chance. She slit his throat while he slept.”

“Where were you?” 

Darceria was pulled from her thoughts at the sound of Geralt’s voice. She could no longer smell her deceased brother or hear his voice. 

“My late husband was the one to notify me of what was going on. He was a knight within the palace. I’d known him my entire life. I was in the library studying. I was just fifteen years of age. He and his brother took me out of Romavek, but we stayed close. I wasn’t ready to leave my home. I thought they needed me…. But then nightfall came and the fires started.” Darceria shook her head, bringing her hand up to rub her eyes. “That is one scent I will never be able to forget. The stench of rotten flesh burning is horrendous. The people rioted. Romavek destroyed itself from the inside out.”

Geralt was silent as he listened to her.

“I’ve never told anyone, you know.” She turned her head as if she wanted to look at him. “Not even Calanthe when she asked, and she did so quite often.”

“I’ll take it with me to my grave.”

Darceria smiled, nodding her head.

“You don’t have to go to that extreme.” She stood to her feet and smoothed out her dress with one hand. “I’ll just ask you something about your past and then we will be even.”

Geralt wasn’t sure if Darceria was joking or not. She was smiling and there was a soft laugh that escaped her lips.

“I suppose you need somewhere to sleep.” The teasing tone in her voice made Geralt smile just a little and only for a second.

“I won’t be sleeping tonight.” He told her.

“Oh, that’s a shame.” She frowned, turning back to face him as she wrapped her cloak tightly around her shoulders. The further she grew from the fire, the colder the room was. “I was willing to offer you half of my bed.” She paused for a moment to gauge his reaction. His heartbeat picked up just a bit. “But only half because I don’t share sleeping arrangements very well.”

The witcher chuckled under his breath. The heavy and hoarse sound was music to Darceria’s ears.

“I appreciate the offer.”

She smiled, turning her head towards the fire. She could feel its heat so she knew exactly where it was, but Geralt silently wondered if she could see bright lights and if maybe that was how she knew where the fire was.

“Good night, Geralt.” Darceria began to move down the hallway. He watched her until she left his sight.

“Good night, Darceria.”


	4. Two

“I hate the snow.” Jaskier grumbled. He stood by the window in the kitchen, looking out at the forest just beyond the clearing in front of the house. He shivered and rubbed his hands together.

“What’s bothering you, Zephyrina?” Geralt asked her. He’d been watching the raven haired woman for a while now. She was staring intently at the hallway, her brows softly knit together and her fingers tightly wound around her mug of tea.

Zephyrina turned her head to Geralt and blinked before the words registered in her brain.

“Darceria should be up by now.”

“Do you think she’s okay?” Ciri looked away from the book she was reading. Zephyrina gave her a few different books to keep her young mind busy.

“She’s fine.” Geralt answered. He was able to hear the oracle’s steady breathing and slow heartbeat. “She was talking a lot in her sleep though. I couldn’t understand a damn word coming from her mouth.”

“You spent the night with her?” Zephyrina suggestively raised her eyebrows.

“No.” He grunted. “I can _hear_ her.”

“I’ll go wake her.” She sighed gently as she stood from her seat and disappeared down the hall.

“Do you like her, Geralt?”

The princess’s question caught him off guard. He turned his head to look at her, amber eyes narrowing.

“Not Zephyrina.” Ciri shook her head as she explained herself. “Darceria. Do you like her?”

“No.” He answered firmly. Ciri furrowed her eyebrows and tilted her head to the side just a little.

“Are you sure?”

“Ciri.”

“Oh come on, Geralt.” Jaskier’s hand clapped down on the witcher’s shoulder. Geralt turned his head to look at the bard, annoyed. “She is a cute one, and she’s decent.”

“Fuck off, bard.” He grunted, shaking Jaskier’s hand from his shoulder.

“He’s being timid.” Jaskier mockingly put his hand over his heart as he moved towards Ciri. “How adorable.”

“I’m going to beat your ass.”

“Oh sure you will, lover boy.”

“Call me that again and I’ll-,”

“That’s enough, boys.”

Geralt turned his head to look in the direction of Zephyrina’s voice. She walked alongside Darceria.

“Are you well, Darceria?” Ciri asked her.

“I’m fine, Ciri.” The redhead smiled gently, nodding. Zephryina let Darceria go as Darceria put her hand on the back of a chair at the table. “On days that I sleep poorly from visions, I just lack strength. The visions have started to take more than they give.”

“How does it work?” Ciri moving to the table, picking the seat next to Darceria. “Your visions? What are they like?”

“Every vision is different.” Darceria turned towards the young princess. “Most of them, I have when I’m asleep. Very rarely do I ever have a vision while I’m awake. Have you ever looked through foggy glass where everything is blurry?”

Ciri nodded her head. Jaskier cleared his throat to get her attention.

“She nodded her head, Darceria.” Zephyrina quietly told the redhead. Darceria turned her head just slightly in the direction of her closest friend, nodding softly in acknowledgement.

“I’m sorry.” Ciri’s cheeks turned a soft shade of pink. She couldn’t believe she forgot that Darceria was blind and couldn’t see her nod her head.

“Don’t apologize. It happens quite often.” Darceria chuckled softly. “The visions are like looking through a dirty window. Everything is blurry and all I can really do is hear or smell things. Once in a great while, the blurry pictures clear up and I can see, but that isn’t often.”

“What about….” She trailed off then shook her head. “Never mind.”

“What about what?” Darceria tilted her head to the side just a little. “Please don’t worry about being rude, Ciri. You’re only curious. Curiosity is a good thing.”

“Do you see blurry figures? Like right now?” Ciri lifted her head to look at Darceria. She bit the inside of her cheek, leaning back in her chair as she thought about that answer.

“It’s very difficult to explain just exactly what I see, Ciri, simply because I hear and feel, and those create images for me. That’s how I know you’re sitting beside me. Jaskier is standing behind Zephyrina’s chair across from us and Geralt is by the fireplace.”

The witcher grunted, surprised with how observant the blind woman was. 

“But as for seeing you…. All I see is black.” Darceria smiled softly in Ciri’s direction. “I’ve only ever seen black.”

Across the room, Geralt had been taking note of every little detail of Darceria and Ciri’s interaction. Darceria’s smile was soft and kind. She was enjoying her conversation with the young girl and the interest she showed in learning more about Darceria’s abilities. Darceria brushed a few red curls out of her face, nodding at Ciri. 

His attention was taken away from them as Zephyrina moved to sit on the bench next to him. She tucked her skirt underneath herself and then placed her hands in her lap. She looked at him until he met her gaze, and then smiled at him. 

“What?”

“I think you should say something to her.”

Geralt was silent. He wasn’t interested in having this conversation now, especially not with Zephyrina and not in the same room as the woman with enhanced hearing. 

“I know witchers are suppose to be these emotionless beings.” Zephyrina scrunched her nose up and shook her head. “But I don’t buy that.”

“And why not?” He turned his head back so that he could look at Darceria. 

“Because of the way you’ve been gawking at her for the last ten minutes.”

“I am not gawking, Zephyrina.” Geralt rolled his eyes.

“Okay, fine. Lurking.” She sighed out. “You’re a stubborn one, Geralt of Rivia.”

“Thank you.” 

***

It was a little past midday when Geralt felt it. There was a magic presence nearby, a strong one. Whoever it was wasn’t as strong as Ciri, that’s for sure, but they were gifted. 

Darceria listened to the witcher move around the room. First he was at the door and then he was at the window in the kitchen. She could sense the tension rolling off of him. It was bitter. 

“What are you searching for?” 

“Someone’s here.” He turned to her. “Were you expecting anyone?”

“No.” Darceria shook her head. “Zephyrina?”

“No, no one.” The raven haired woman stood from her seat next to Jaskier, who was playing her a song, and went to the window where Geralt stood. “Do you see anything, Darceria?” 

“Nothing.” She whispered. She strained her ears to listen to the forest outside. The snow was a good silencer, but an even better listening device. She could hear someone crunching through the snow, moving slowly and cautiously towards the cottage. “Can you hear them, Geralt?”

“No.” He grumbled. 

“What’s going on?” Ciri looked around the room, but no one answered her. No one had a good answer.

“They’re coming from that way.” Darceria pointed to the front of the small structure. “It’s just one.”

“A beggar, perhaps?” Jaskier suggested, placing his lute against the wall beside himself.

“No. They’re wearing silk underneath many layers.” Darceria could hear the sound of silk rubbing against whoever was out there. 

“Is this the trouble you mentioned last night, Darceria?” Geralt looked across the room to her. She didn’t answer him immediately. Her eyebrows knit together as she turned her head in his direction, then slowly nodded.

“I’m afraid so.”

“And we are sitting here like sheep waiting to be slaughtered.” Jaskier threw his hands into the air. “That’s just grand.”

“No one is dying today, bard.” Geralt mumbled under his breath. “But we need to move. Whoever it is could be leading an ambush.”

“I can’t hear anyone else.” Darceria shook her head. 

“I’m not willing to trust that.” Geralt needed to make sure Ciri was safe. He needed to get her out of the cottage. “Go get your cloak, Ciri.”

“Geralt-,”

“You can fight me about it later, Ciri.” He cut her off firmly. 

“Are we just leaving them here?” Jaskier quietly asked as Ciri hastily moved to her room. The bard gestured to Zephyrina and then Darceria. Geralt looked between the two before his eyes settled on the latter.

“They’re more than capable of making decisions for themselves.” He would never admit it, but the witcher silently hoped Darceria would decide to follow them. 

“We’ll come with you.” Darceria proclaimed. “Calanthe wanted me to find Ciri and protect her fate. I can only do that if I’m alongside you.”

“And you, Zephyrina?” Jaskier looked to her, his heart racing at the thought of never seeing her again.

“I go wherever Darceria goes.” Zephyrina smiled softly at him.

“Then let’s not waste any time in getting the fuck out of here.” Geralt moved down the hallway to check on Ciri. 

The fire in the fireplace suddenly went out and a gust of chilling wind swept through the cottage. 

“Zephyrina, go with Jaskier to the stables. We will need all three horses.” Darceria told her. 

Zephyrina nodded her head and went to her room for a few moments to get her cloak. 

Darceria gathered her bag and then went to Zephyrina’s room to pack the few things she had. 

She could sense Geralt’s presence in the doorway of the room. He was carefully watching her.

“Is Ciri ready?” 

“Yes.” He nodded once. Darceria threw her bag and Zephyrina’s over her shoulders before making her way towards the door, but Geralt didn’t move. “What exactly did you see yesterday?”

“I told you then that I wasn’t seeing much. Nothing changed since then. I don’t know who is out there or what they want, but I’m willing to be it’s her they’re here for.” Darceria titled her head up to him. “I can show you later or we can waste time and I can do it now. Take your pick.”

“Geralt! Darceria!” Ciri called for them. “The horses are ready!”

“Later.” Geralt answered with a grumble. 

Darceria waited a few heartbeats to follow behind him. She didn’t want to step on the back of his heels. 

***

“She’s drawing closer.” Darceria warned as she followed behind Zephyrina. They were the last two to leave the small place they’d briefly called home.

“She?” Zephyrina repeated, looking over her shoulder.

“I can hear her breathing.”

“Can you tell which one is Winston?” Zephyrina took ahold of her horse’s saddle and pulled herself up on to her back.

“He’s behind Ada.” Darceria brushed her fingers along Ada’s hindquarters. She held her hand out for Winston. She found his nose and then his reins, neck, and finally his saddle.

Jaskier climbed on to Ada behind Zephyrina. Geralt and Ciri were ready of Roach, waiting for the others to join them.

“I’ll take up the rear.” Darceria offered.

“Are you sure?” Geralt asked her, unsure about her proposition. He was even more unsure about her riding a horse by herself.

“I’m positive.” Darceria could use her hearing as a way to follow. She would stay a safe distance away from the others so she had time to react if something happened. “I’ve done this before.”

Geralt and Ciri led the way with Zephyrina and Jaskier right behind them.

Darceria turned her head as she heard the being break through the woods behind her. She tugged the reins and Winston lurched forward.

Over the sounds of stomping horse hooves, Darceria swore ahead heard the person utter out a spell in Elvan, but nothing happened. She snapped the reins to move Winston faster to keep up with the rest of the small group.

***

A hand on Darceria’s leg caught her attention. She let her hands fall from her ringing ears. 

“Are you okay, Darceria?” Zephyrina asked her. 

The witcher, the two princesses, the bard, and the maiden had traveled for quite some time until they came upon a little village nestled in the edge of Kovir. 

Darceria’s ears had started ringing the closer they drew to the village. She wasn’t sure why her ears were ringing but it was making following behind Zephyrina difficult. She managed until the group came to a stop at a livery stable. This was where the horses would stay until they could figure out where they were going to go next. 

“I’m fine.” Darceria answered Zephyrina, brushing her long crimson hair over her shoulder. “My head is just hurting.”

“Come on down from there. Let the stable boy take Winston while we warm up inside.” Zephyrina put her hand on Darceria’s. Darceria gladly accepted her offer and slipped down from Winston’s back. Zephyrina’s hand moved to Darceria’s back as she took note of how pale Darceria appeared. “Is it just your head?”

“Yes, Zephyrina.” The oracle nodded. 

Zephyrina led the way into the inn. Darceria followed her soft and graceful steps. Geralt, Jaskier, and Ciri had already picked a place out in the inn’s tavern that they’d reconvene. They knew they’d have to stay in the town for the night, it was just a matter of figuring out where they were going to venture to next. 

“You look unwell, Darceria.” Jaskier commented. “Is it the cold getting to you?”

“I’m fine, Jaskier. Just a headache.” Darceria sat down on the bench next to Zephyrina, who was right next to Jaskier. Across from them sat Ciri on the inside of the bench while Geralt was on the outside. 

As Zephyrina asked about Geralt’s plan, Darceria zoned out. Her ears were ringing just slightly now, but she also noticed that her sense of smell was deteriorating. When she first entered the inn, she could smell the strong stench of men who hadn’t seen a proper bath in days, weeks even. Ale was also noticeable to her otherwise sensitive nose. But now as she sat in the back corner of the tavern, she could no longer smell either of those things. 

She took a soft deep breath, hoping to clear whatever was messing with her from her airways. As she exhaled, she could no longer detect Zephyrina’s lemon and rose scent even though the woman was right beside her. 

Darceria furrowed her eyebrows together. She placed her hands on the wooden table top, hoping that she would be able to figure out just where Geralt and Ciri were. She hadn’t been able to detect them since her hearing and sense of smell had dissipated. She became even more distressed when she couldn’t feel the table beneath her palm. She knew her hand was touching it, she could sense something underneath her, a force preventing her from moving any further. But she couldn’t feel the grain in the wood or the cuts and divots from wear. 

Across the table from her, Geralt had been carefully watching Darceria while Zephyrina and Jaskier chatted about different places with potential that they could wander to next. Geralt could hear her heart pick up in pace, becoming more frantic as she realized she couldn’t _see_ anything. She placed her hand on the table, her brows drawn together in corner as she stared blankly ahead. Then her fingers curled into the wood like she was trying to grab something. A gasp escaped her parted lips. 

“What wrong, Darceria?” Geralt asked her. His question caused Jaskier to stop talking. Those at the table turned their attention to the curly redhead. 

Darceria didn’t hear him. She _couldn’t_ hear him. 

“Darceria?” Zephyrina placed her hand on Darceria’s arm. She flinched away from Zephyrina’s touch, her eyes blinking as she tilted her head down. The ringing in her ears suddenly stopped. 

“I-I can’t do this.” The words came out in a choked whisper. Darceria stood and turned in the direction she was sure they came from. She could suddenly hear the loud, rambunctious laughter of the village drunks, the clanking of their mugs together, and the terrible, terrible singing from one of the drunkards. All of it was echoing in her ears, overstimulating her extremely sensitive hearing. 

Geralt was on his feet and following her, seeing that she was about to hastily walk straight into a table. His hand latched around her arm and he pulled her away.

“Darceria.” He pulled her close so the prying eyes and ears of those around them couldn’t hear. “What’s going on?”

Darceria could sense him. His body was cold and felt like a wall of chilling ice. The second he said her name, she had visibly calmed down. Hearing his voice pulled her out of whatever overactive sensory trance she had been in. The sounds around her became muffled as she chose to focus on his heartbeat. It was slow and familiar. It was something she could ground herself with. 

“I-I can’t see. I can’t-I can’t see.” Her small thin fingers wrapped around his wrist in a deathly grip. “I can’t smell anything or-or even feel you against my hand. And-And my ears are ringing. I can barely hear you.” She whispered, tilting her head down. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

Geralt was silent as he looked down at her. He could sense something different about her, something that wasn’t there just before they fled the little cottage. It was someone else’s magic on her.

“It’s a spell.” Geralt told her. “The sorceress lurking in the woods must’ve placed it on you.”

Darceria swallowed the lump in her throat. 

“A spell?” Zephyrina repeated. “Is she going to be okay?”

“I don’t know. I’m not a sorcerer. But I know where we are going next.” Geralt turned to back to the rest of the group.

“Where?” Ciri curiously asked.

“Pont Vanis. There’s a mage there.”

“And you trust this mage?” Zephyrina raises her brows. She was wary of anyone who possessed magic abilities.

Geralt said nothing. He didn’t have a good answer to her question.

“Oh, no.” Jaskier shook his head. “Not her.”

“Jaskier–,”

“Every single bloody time you go even remotely close to her, something catastrophic happens–!”

“Jaskier!” Geralt snapped. Darceria’s hand released Geralt. She held one of her hands out to tentatively feel the furniture around her. She made her way back to her seat, following Jaskier’s voice.

“We leave in the morning for Pont Vanis.” The oracle said.

“Darceria–,”

“It’s not up for discussion, Zephyrina.” Darceria cut her friend off. “I’m losing the only way I can see the world, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit idly by while I become engulfed in nothingness.”

Her tone was stern and harsh but she was anxious, worried that she’d never be able to use her senses again. She didn’t want to be in a dark and silent world. She wouldn’t survive.

***

The group split up into two rooms in the inn. Zephyrina and Jaskier shared one and just down the hall was Geralt, Ciri, and Darceria. Their room was lucky enough to include two beds, so Ciri and Darceria would share one while Geralt had his own.

Hours had passed since Darceria last said anything. She’d fallen silent since they left the tavern. Ciri was fast asleep on the bed. Darceria sat on the edge of the bed, running her fingers through her messy curls as she leaned against the headboard. She was afraid to fall asleep, afraid to succumb to whatever spell had been placed on her.

“Trouble sleeping?” Geralt’s voice broke through the silence. He propped himself up on one elbow to look across the room at Darceria. Even with the pitch black that absorbed the room, he could see her perfectly.

“I don’t feel comfortable sleeping like this.” She softly shook her head. “My hearing has been fading in and out. I don’t like it.”

“If you’re afraid that something might happen, don’t be. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

His words made her smile just slightly.

“I’ll be fine going without sleep. I’m hardly a stranger to sleepless nights.” She folded her hands in her lap, tapping her thumb against her opposite hand. “It took years after what happened in Romavek for a peaceful night of sleep to come.”

“Peaceful.” He repeated the word, almost like he was unsure of its meaning.

“I use the term loosely. My dreams are plagued with visions of destruction, of chaos and disorder.”

The bed moved as Ciri stirred in her sleep.

“Come over here.”

Geralt’s words caught Darceria off guard. She furrowed her brows together, turning her head in his direction. 

“She needs her rest. Come over here so we can talk without disturbing her.”

Darceria nodded her head, muttering out a shy _okay_ , before she slipped out of the bed. Her fingers trailed along the edge of the bed, allowing it to guide her until she reached the end. Her hearing was fading, dwindling slowly as the night had aged. She could no longer trust her ears to lead her in the correct direction of Geralt’s heartbeat. She reached her hand out for the end of Geralt’s bed, tentatively stepping away from the safety of her own. 

The rough texture of Geralt’s used hands found the back of her hand. She blinked at the contact, not realizing that he was so close. She turned her hand over to take his fingers in her own. He gently guided her to the side of his bed which she wasn’t far from. Darceria sat down on the edge of the stiff mattress, her hand not letting Geralt’s go. The feeling in her fingertips were coming and going, much like her hearing. It hadn’t completely disappeared, unlike her sense of smell. 

“Can I ask you something, Geralt?” Her voice was soft and timid. The mattress beneath her moved as he sat down next to her, putting only a few inches of space between them. He didn’t answer her, so she continued. “Do you ever tire of who you’re suppose to be?”

He said nothing. Darceria pulled his hand into her lap, finding comfort in lacing her small fingers between his massive ones. Silence filled the space between them as he watched her brush her opposite hand over the back of his hand she held. He didn’t speak for a long time, unsure of the proper answer.

“I try not to linger on it.”

“If given the choice, I never would’ve been an oracle.” She admitted out loud. “Everyone has always told me what an honor it was that my destiny meant more than my life. My mother would tell me that if I wasn’t an oracle, my life would be meaningless and insignificant. My father told me I was going to do better things, bigger things because of the curse they called a gift. But no one tells you of the hardships that come with the title of being an oracle.” She shook her head softly. 

Geralt fought the urge to reach out and brush a stray curl out of her forehead. She was breathtaking. With her dark red curls sitting along her shoulders, framing her face like some sort of halo and her dark lashes that rested upon her cheeks, it was a wonder how he could be so lucky to be in the presence of someone so otherworldly. She hadn’t aged a day since he saw her ten years ago.

“Oracles are born every half century, so everything I learned was from the elders of Romavek or from books within the library. The oracle before me died years before I was born. The plague, I was told. In all the books and all the lectures I had to sit through, none of them ever mentioned the burning.” Her grip on his hand tightened just a little. It wasn’t painful, but he did notice it. “The constant feeling like you’re on fire just before you go to sleep and after you wake. It’s the magic from the visions, I’ve learned. The older I’ve gotten, the stronger I’ve become… and the worse the burning gets.”

“Are you in pain now?” Geralt quietly asked. He wouldn’t usually interject but he was concerned. 

“My head is hurting so greatly that it’s sort of numbed the rest of me.” She smiled wryly. “I will be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

Those words were easier said than done.

“I should let you sleep.” Darceria started to stand up but Geralt tugged her back towards him by her hand. 

“You can stay.” He was timid, hesitant even. He didn’t want to be shut down by this woman that captivated him. “Let Ciri rest. If you aren’t going to sleep, then there’s no sense disturbing her.”

Darceria bit the inside of her lips. He was right. She wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon, so why clamber into the bed with the young princess?

“Okay.” She nodded softly. 

Geralt moved over, pulling the covers back so that she could get into the bed next to him. She settled on the mattress, laying on her hip facing him while her shoulders were pressed to the mattress. Geralt had yet to let go of her hand, so even under the blankets, their fingers were intertwined. 

“Can I try something with you, Geralt?” She whispered, turning her head towards him.

“What?”

“I just want to try something I learned years ago. I…. I’ve only ever done in a few times.”

He hummed in reply. Darceria pulled her hand out of his and brushed her fingernails up his forearm. She found the crook of his elbow. That was where her touch stayed. Her eyes closed as she pushed her fingertips into his icy skin. A little tinge of hope flooded her veins. She could feel him. Her sense of touch had yet to fade completely.

She took a deep breath and held it for a few heartbeats. As she exhaled, she could feel the block that prevented her from reaching Geralt on a more intimate, more intense and personal level. It was a brick wall, one that wouldn’t easily fall.

Geralt could feel her magic-like essence prodding at him. It was a dull poke that bothered him more than it harmed. Curious to see what she would do, he let the metaphorical wall down to grant her access.

A soft gasp escaped her mouth. She could feel emotions, emotions that Geralt had felt through his long life. It was sudden and unexpected. She didn’t think her magic was strong enough to work on him–a witcher.

There were so many emotions, so many that Darceria herself had felt. Lust and love, remorse and grief. But some were more intense than what she had ever felt. There was an emptiness in him, a void that had had been carved into him since he was a child. He longed to fill that void, though he’d never admit it out loud.

Darceria pulled her hand from his arm. Her chest was rising and falling with heavy heavy breath.

“What did you do?” Geralt asked, watching her face carefully.

“Sometimes I can feel another’s emotions through touch. It’s a rare feat from what I’ve been told. I…. I’ve only ever done it with my late husband.”

Geralt was quiet. With her heart still beating quickly in her chest, Darceria moved closer to him, placing her hand on his bicep.

“Have you ever married?”

He snorted, shaking his head as he turned his attention to the ceiling above them.

“No.”

“I did.”

“You said he was a knight of Romavek?”

“Yes. His name was Marick. He was a patient man with a heart of gold.” Darceria brushed her fingers up and down the length of his bicep, admiring the feeling of his muscules beneath the thin shirt sleeve. “I never thought I’d be able to survive without him, but here I am twelve years later.”

“How did he die?” Geralt turned his head to look at her. Darceria exhaled. Her hand stopped moving on his arm.

“We settled down in a village in Cintra. We had a little home. It was nothing worth bragging about but honestly, it was amazing. The village was attacked by a werewolf. He…. he died protecting the village.” Darceria locked her jaw for a moment to gather herself. She didn’t want to lose her composure right now. “You would’ve liked him. He could be loud and animated, but he was kind. He was a protector. Just like you.”

Across the room, Ciri grumbled in her sleep, causing both Darceria and Geralt to fall silent.

“We should rest.” He suggested. “Tomorrow will be a long day. Pont Vanis is a day’s trip away, and that’s if we make as few stops as possible.”

Darceria nodded her head, hoping he could see her. She moved her head forward so that her forehead rested against his shoulder. She closed her eyes and moved her feet around underneath the blanket.


	5. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this story sort of takes place 4 months after the Battle of Sodden. Which means Ciri has been traveling with Geralt and Jaskier for those four months. Just a PSA. Also PSA #2. I have been sort of using Scarlett Johansson with her dark red gorgeous curls from Iron Man 3 as Darceria in my head because ScarJo is my queen and owns me. PSA #2.5. Adelaide Kane has been Zephyrina in my head.

“Stay close.” Geralt spoke over his shoulder to Jaskier, Zephyrina, and Darceria. 

It was nightfall by the time they reached Pont Vanis. With the three horses at a boarding stable, the group traveled on foot to their destination. 

Zephyrina’s arm was hooked with Darceria’s, providing lead and support to the blind woman. Her hearing was becoming worse, but there was nothing anyone could do except wait and hope they reached the mage Geralt had so much faith in. 

It was evident the spell was wearing Darceria down. She moved slower and with less elegance than usual. There were dark circles beneath her white eyes and her breathing was short and shallow. 

Geralt led the way to a large stone mansiom. Ciri walked beside him and just behind them were Zephyrina, Darceria, and Jaskier. The latter had spent most of the day trying to cheer the ladies up. Zephyrina was worried about Darceria, and rightfully so. They didn’t know what the spell placed on the oracle would do to her.

“I don’t like this, Geralt.” Jaskier voiced his opinion as he followed behind the witcher. “She’ll want something in return, you know that.”

“If we don’t do this, Jaskier, then Darceria could die. I can hear her heart beating slowly.” Geralt kept his voice low.

Zephyrina visibly shuddered at the thought of losing her sister, her other half. She’d gone so long by Darceria’s side, she wasn’t sure if she knew how to live without the redhead. 

“Do you know who he’s taking us to see?” Zephyrina asked Jaskier, her voice quiet so that only he could hear, or so she thought. 

“She’s an insane witch we ran into five years ago.”

“That insane witch saved your life, Jaskier.” Geralt reminded him.

“Should’ve let me die.” The bard muttered. “Would’ve beat knowing that she-beast.”

Zephyrina let out a soft sigh, turning her head to look at Darceria. Her eyes were closed, as they had been for most of the day. She was trying to focus on hearing, on her other senses. It was a fruitless effort, but the stubborn oracle refused to stop trying.

“How are you, Darceria?”

“Just as fine as I was when you asked me ten minutes ago.” Her voice was raspy and worn. 

Geralt came to a stop at the front door to the large mansion and knocked three times. The sound echoed and made Darceria flinch. She turned her head towards Zephyrina, her brows drawing together. 

“If Jaskier becomes hostile in here, you need to do what you can to keep him calm.”

“He doesn’t like whoever this mage is.” Zephyrina whispered.

“It’s either we try this or sit idly by while I wither away and die, Zephyrina.” Darceria snapped. She pulled her arm from Zephyrina’s and moved forward. 

The door opened to reveal a woman in a bland brown dress. 

“We’ve come to see Yennefer.” Geralt told the maid. 

“She isn’t seeing visitors at the moment.” The maid tried to close the door on him but he placed his hand against it, easily keeping the door open. 

“She’ll be seeing us.”

“Leave, Magdolene.” A sharp voice came from behind the maid. The maid ducked out of the doorway with her head down. 

Geralt watched as the mage came into view. She was dressed in black, as usual. The dress fit her perfectly, showing off her curves and her bust. Her dark hair was down in loose curls. 

“You’re the last person I’d expect to see, Geralt of Rivia.” She spoke. 

Darceria could hear her voice, the familiarity in her tone as she addressed the witcher. She was important to him, or was at one point. She could feel their connection in her stomach. It didn’t occur naturally. There was an outside force pushing them together.

“How did you find me?”

“I have my ways.” He kept his answer short and to the point. “A spell has been cast on her. She needs help.”

“Surely you’d know other mages more willing to help.”Yennefer turned her attention to the redhead standing just behind Ciri. She carefully studied the white eyed woman, unsure of the magic she felt rolling off of her. 

“She isn’t human, nor is she mutant.”

“An oracle.” Jaskier told her. “The only survivor of Romavek, and a princess.”

“Is that suppose to make me want to help her, bard?” 

“Yenn.” Geralt said her name sternly, but there was a softness hidden in his gruff voice. Darceria locked her jaw and titled her head down. They were lovers. Of course he’d take them to his lover. 

Yennefer rolled her eyes and turned to walk further into the mansion. Geralt stepped in first. Ciri turned to look at Darceria, who hadn’t made an effort to move. 

“Darceria, come along.” Ciri placed her hand on Darceria’s elbow. 

“Thank you, Ciri.” She gave the young princess a forced smile but it didn’t reach her eyes like her smiles usually did. 

***

“Have a seat.” Yennefer gestured to a chair sitting next to what would be considered her study desk. That was where she wanted Darceria to sit.

“Here, Darceria.” Ciri placed Darceria’s hand on the back of the chair. Darceria nodded her head and moved around to sit in the seat. 

“Darceria is your name?” Yennefer asked from across the room. “And you’re of Romavek?”

“Yes.” Darceria nodded once. The mage’s words were muffled but she could hear them enough to answer. 

“And you are an oracle.” Yennefer moved back towards Darceria. “The sister to the sorcerer. I’ve never met one of your kind in all my years.”

“Perhaps that’s because Romavek, the only place oracles are native to, is no longer standing.” Jaskier suggested rather sarcastically. Yennefer shot him a glare.

“Are all of you blind?”

“Yennefer.”

“It was just a question.” She looked back to the witcher, who had said her name like he was going to scold her for pointing out Darceria’s disability. “I don’t know if the whole seeing the future comes with a cost like one’s sight or something.”

“Oracles are born with sight.” Darceria explained, rubbing her palms together in her lap. “I was the only exception.”

“So you were born without sight.” Yennefer moved a chair to sit in front of Darceria. She placed her palm on Darceria’s forehead and closed her violet eyes for a moment. She opened them and pushed herself to her feet. 

“Can you reverse the spell or something?” Zephyrina asked, her words rather rushed and rude. 

“And you are?” Yennefer raised her eyebrows at the woman.

“Darceria’s friend.” Jaskier said. 

Yennefer’s eyes lingered on Zephyrina before the mage moved to gather a few herbs and items from around the room. 

“What’s been happening since you were hexed, Darceria?”

“I-I can’t smell or taste anything. And when I touch things, I can’t feel them.”

“And your hearing?”

“It comes and goes. Sometimes my ears ring terribly.”

“Sounds like a simple sensory deprivation spell.” Yennefer spoke as she retrieved what she needed and then returned to her seat. “I’m guessing it didn’t fully work on you because it takes your sight first, and then hearing, smelling, touch, and finally taste.” She placed the items down on the table beside Darceria. “Being blind, you didn’t notice it taking your vision because you have none to give.”

“What about my hearing? Why hasn’t that gone too?”

“You have some magic qualities to you. They’re different than anything I’ve ever felt. I’m guessing it’s because you’re an oracle. I would know more if the outside world knew more of oracles, but Romavek was notorious for secrecy. I’d say your magic kept you from losing your hearing completely.”

“Can you fix her?” Geralt asked. Yennefer’s eyes flickered back to look at the witcher, holding his gaze for a few silent heartbeats.

“Of course I can.” Yennefer picked up a smudge stick and held it over a lit candle. “Come with me, Darceria.” Yennefer placed her hand on Darceria’s shoulder. Darceria put her hand on the mage’s and then moved north to find her wrist.

Yennefer wasn’t slow and careful with her movements. She walked at a brisk pace. Darceria trusted her, she had no other choice. The mage took Darceria to a spare room just down the hall. Yennefer led the way across the room to a bed.

“Lay down.”

Darceria did as told, releasing Yennefer’s wrist. Yennefer waved her hand dismissively towards a fireplace. Flames engulfed the wood inside.

“Leave me to my work.” Yennefer spoke over her shoulder. Geralt, Jaskier, Ciri, and Zephyrina has gathered in the doorway to curiously watch.

Jaskier and Ciri stepped away, following Yennefer’s demand.

“Come on.” Geralt looked to Zephyrina. The woman met his gaze briefly before turning her attention back to Darceria.

***

Hours had passed since Yennefer left Darceria’s room. She joined the witcher and his followers in the common room and had been talking to Ciri for most of the day, only throwing snarky and borderline rude remarks towards Jaskier and Geralt when they said something she didn’t like.

Geralt lifted his head and rose to his feet in the same instant. He could hear Darceria moving in the room upstairs.

“Whats wrong, Geralt?” Zephyrina asked him, standing to her feet too.

“She’s awake.”

Yennefer turned her head to watch the staircase. Darceria moved gracefully down the steps, one hand gliding over the railing while her opposite held the skirt to her dress.

“How do you feel?” Jaskier questioned.

“Better.” The smile that graced Darceria’s lips caused something within Geralt to stir. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Thank you, Yennefer.”

“It’s not like I had a choice really.” The mage sighed out as she leaned back in her seat, crossing her knees.

“You did.” Geralt told her. He sat back down in his chair at the table where he sat with Jaskier and Zephyrina.

“Zephyrina? Will you walk with me?”

“Of course.” Zephyrina nodded her head. She moved to Darceria’s side, offering her hand to the oracle. Darceria gladly took it.

“They’re cute.” Yennefer commented, brushing her fingers absentmindedly through her long locks as she watched the front door close behind them. “It makes sense why the dark haired one is protective of Darceria.”

“They aren’t together.” Jaskier looked to Yennefer. “Zephyrina is with me.”

Yennefer turned her head to the bard, her violet gaze watching him.

“Of course she is.”

“What the hell is that suppose to mean–,”

“Stand down, Jaskier.” Geralt cut him off.

“Is she important to your quest?” Yennefer turned her attention to the witcher.

“No.”

“Then why is she tagging along with you? Certainly she could be anywhere else in the world. There are far better places to be than by your side.”

“He fancies her.” Ciri blurted our. Her eyes immediately widened as she looked to Geralt. Jaskier snickered and Ciri put her hand over her mouth to hide her own giggle.

“The witcher fancies the oracle.” Yennefer slowly started to tap her foot against the floor.

“I do not.” Geralt calmly protested. “Her ability to see the future is useful. She could be the difference between life and death for Cirilla.”

“She must be a good fuck if you’re keeping her near.”

“Yennefer.” Geralt snapped.

“There are young ears in here, Yennefer.” Jaskier told her. Yennefer almost rolled her eyes as she looked to Ciri, giving the child a smile.

“My apologies, Princess.”

***

Outside was bitter and frigid, but Darceria welcomed the fresh air. She took a deep breath, her eyelids sliding shut as she relished in the woodsy, earthy scent.

“You look a lot better.” Zephyrina smiled softly.

“I feel better. Not a hundred percent yet, but I will get there.” Darceria but her bottom lip. Zephyrina was leading them around the house, admiring the view of the mansion-like structure. “Zephyrina? Is Yennefer attractive?”

“…. Physically, yes. But her personality is very unlikeable. She’s rather rude.”

Darceria smiled just a little. Zephyrina could be rude too.

“Why do you ask?” The raven haired woman looked to Darceria.

The oracle softly shook her head.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does. Something is bothering you.” Zephyrina came to a stop and turned to face Darceria. “What is it?”

Darceria turned her head away from her friend, listening to an animal move through the snow in the woods just behind her. It sounded like a deer.

“The way he said her name…. He feels something for her.”

“Jaskier said they have history, but nothing grand. Don’t let her intimidate you.”

“She doesn’t intimidate me, Zephyrina. But if…. If Geralt feels for her, then why am I here?” She whispered, her voice broken and hurt. Her brows drew together as she fought the urge to cry. How could she be so foolish to think the witcher felt anything for her?

“Because you care about Ciri’s wellbeing and you want to help her.” Zephyrina placed her hands on Darceria’s shoulders. “Don’t let this get to you, sister. I hate to see you cry.”

“I’m not going to cry.” Darceria shook her head softly. “There’s no reason to cry. He isn’t mine to get emotional over.”

The bluntness of her own words hit like a brick wall. Her stomach churned and her chest tightened.

“I’d like to walk alone for a little while, Zephyrina.” Darceria murmured gently.

“If you need me, I’ll be in the house.” She let her hands fall from Darceria’s shoulders.

Darceria listened to the snow crunch beneath Zephyrina’s feet. She waited until the sound became distant to move. She turned and started to walk towards the woods. She clasped her hands together in front of her waist.

“He isn’t yours, Darceria.” She whispered to herself, absentmindedly rubbing her arm. “He isn’t yours.”

Oh, but how she wished he _was_ hers. How she wished to call him hers. To do so would be lovely, she imagined. He was gentle and kind, but there was a dangerous aura to him. He was the Butcher of Blaviken after all. His hands were littered in scars. She knew this from holding his hand the previous night. His voice comforted her, his deep and guttural voice. His scent even brought her peace. Earthy and manly all in one, the scent of a man who had never known a home.

***

Zephyrina closed the door to the house roughly behind herself.

“How is she?” Ciri asked.

“She’s doing well, Ciri.” Zephyrina have her a friendly smile. Her gaze shifted to Geralt and hardened. “She’d like to speak with you.”

Geralt stiffened up a little, unsure of why the oracle would want to talk to him.

He nodded once and rose to his feet. Zephyrina followed him out of the door of the house but as soon as it closed behind her, she grabbed his arm and forced him to stop. He turned to her, brows furrowing together in confusion and surprise.

“I don’t know what kind of sick game you think you are playing with her, Geralt of Rivia.” Zephyrina spoke lowly, her voice laced with anger. She glared up at him, unafraid of the height difference. “But I’d stop if I were you.”

“I’m not playing any games.” He spoke through clenched teeth, pulling his arm from her tight grip. “What did she tell you?”

“She didn’t tell me anything.” Zephyrina crosses her arms. “If you’re still stuck up that mage’s ass, I’d also suggest leaving Darceria alone. Tell her to leave even, but do not for a second think that it’s okay to play with her–,”

“I don’t know what your fucking problem is, Zephyrina, but I’m _not_ playing with her.”

“You brought us to the house of your lover! The same mage you are tied to by fate! And you know Darceria thinks highly of you.”

The witcher gritted his teeth together before storming off of the front staircase, shaking his head. He stopped a few feet from the stairs, glaring up at Zephyrina.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Jaskier told me about the djinn. He told me about your wish to keep Yennefer. But just because you’re stuck with her doesn’t mean you can toy with Darceria.” Zephyrina’s voice lowered and softened just a little. “She’s a sweet woman with a heart of gold. She doesn’t deserve to be played by a witcher.”

Geralt looked his jaw at her words, glaring up at the woman for a few heartbeats. Without a another word, he turned and followed the tracks through the snow.

***

Geralt found Darceria not too far into the woods. She had touched nearly every tree she passed, her fingers lingering on the rough bark as if she wanted to memorize each marking.

She could hear him approach, hear the steady beat of his slow heart and his heavy boots against the snow-clad earth.

“Zephyrina said you wished to speak with me.” He stopped moving towards her.

“Damn her.” Darceria muttered under her breath. She didn’t bother to turn to face him as she continued to move slowly through the forest. “I don’t. She was just saying that.”

“Why?”

“You’ll have to ask her.”

Her tone was hard, her answers were short. Something was wrong.

“Are you okay?”

“Just fine, thank you.”

“No you aren’t.” Geralt followed after her. “You’re being difficult.”

“I think Zephyrina and I will find somewhere else to go.” Darceria turned to face him. He stopped a few feet away. “Somewhere we won’t be a bother.”

“You aren’t a…. What did Yennefer tell you?”

“She hasn’t spoken to me since she reversed the spell.”

“Zephyrina then. Did she say something to piss you off?” Geralt demanded, the anger inside leaking out through his voice. The dark haired maiden was getting on his nerves.

“I’m not pissed off, Geralt.” Darceria snapped, her bitter tone almost making him flinch. He wasn’t used to anything but the kind and sweet woman she was. “Just confused.” Her tone lowered. She smoothed out her skirt. She did it when she was nervous, something Geralt had picked up on pretty quick.

“About what?”

Darceria fell silent. She turned her head away from his voice. Her heart was racing in her chest. She could hear it plain as day, and was sure he could too.

“Last night, you invited me into your bed.” Her voice was nearly a whisper and anyone else wouldn’t have been able to hear her. But Geralt wasn’t anyone else. “I thought surely you wouldn’t do such a thing unless you felt some sort of way about me. But I hear you say her name, say Yennefer’s name, and I realized I was stupid. I was-I was naive to think….” She trailed off, shaking her head.

Realization hit Geralt and his shoulders slumped just a little. She fancied him.

“There is nothing going on between Yennefer and me, Darceria.”

“But there was something. The way you said her name, it was with familiarity.”

Geralt sighed heavily, his eyes flickering around the woods that surrounded them. He couldn’t believe this was happening.

“There was…. something years ago, but that has since dwindled. You need not worry about what isn’t there.”

Darceria nodded her head softly. He was telling the truth. She bit her bottom lip, still fighting back tears. Was he going to admit he liked her just as she had done for him not even five minutes ago? Or did he not feel the same way? No, of course he didn’t.

“Are you still thinking of leaving?” He asked her. She softly shook her head. “Good. I think Ciri would be disappointed.”

Silence fell between them. It was heavy and tense. Geralt wanted to say the words on the top of his tongue, to let her know how he felt. But even he was unsure of how he felt.

“It’s cold out here. Let’s go back inside.” He suggested. “In the morning, I’ll retrieve the horses and we can leave.”

Darceria nodded her head and started to move towards him, towards the house. Just as she was passing him, his hand clasped around her arm.

“Don’t be angry with me.” He murmured softly.

“I’m not angry with you.” She turned her head to him.

“Yes, you are. I can feel it.”

His breath brushed over her face, a stark contrast to the cold air.

“Not angry, just confused.” She gently pulled her arm from his grip and continued towards the house.

***

By the time the sun went down and the moon replaced her spot, Yennefer had showed each uninvited guest to a room. Though she’d been questioned rather repetitively throughout the night by Geralt as to how she came across such a house, she never answered him.

Darceria’s room was next to Zephyrina’s and across from Ciri’s. Just a few doors down was Geralt’s room and Jaskier’s, though the bard wasn’t interested in sleeping alone.

Darceria combed her brush gently through her hair, listening to Yennefer move down the hallway. She had just left Geralt’s room. Darceria forced herself to ignore whatever they spoke about, but she couldn’t help overhearing the door close firmly behind the mage.

A few heartbeats later, there was a light knock on the door.

“Come in, Yennefer.” Darceria put her brush down and began to braid her hair.

“I’d just like a few moments to speak with you.” Yennefer closed the door behind herself.

“Of course.” Darceria nodded. Yennefer moved to the vanity, messing with her hair to keep her hands busy.

“I hear you fancy Geralt.”

Darceria swallowed the lump in her throat, curling her fingers around the material of her nightgown.

“Yennefer–,”

“Zephyrina said so.” Yennefer turned to face the oracle, leaning against the vanity. “I’m not angry. I just want to warn you about his kind. Witchers are dangerous. They aren’t to be taken lightly.”

“Geralt is hardly the first witcher I’ve come across.” Darceria couldn’t help but become a little hostile. She didn’t like when people assumed she couldn’t take care of herself.

“Then you know that they take what they want and they leave when they’re through with you. Or they tie you down with something you aren’t even sure you want. Make you feel things you aren’t sure are real.” Yennefer shook her head, letting out a heavy breath through her nose. “I am tied to him. Our destinies are linked forever.”

“I know.” Darceria whispered, tilting her head down so her white eyes were no longer staring blankly in the direction of the mage. “I can feel it.”

“You can?” Yennefer raises her eyebrows.

“My forte is fate and destiny. Oracles can sense relationships that are aligned by fate, by the stars and our ancestors.”

“Can you explain it a little better?” Yennefer moved to sit a few feet away from Darceria on the bed. “How do you sense it?”

“When one speaks. For instance, when he was talking to you earlier, I could feel it.”

“What does it feel like?” The mage asked quietly.

“It’s unnatural mostly. There is something there buried beneath whatever magic was used to connect you two, but the vast majority of what I sense is unnatural. Jaskier and Zephyrina, for example, are naturally bonded. Their bond is like…. like flowers in the Spring as they bloom. Beautiful and sweet.”

“Did you set them up?”

“Oh, no. They don’t know that their destinies are intertwined, that they are bound to each other. I let things fall into place as they should.”

Yennefer nodded softly.

“I should let you sleep. You still are healing.” The mage pushed herself to her feet but didn’t turn away from Darceria. “How do you see one’s future?”

“It depends. Usually, when I touch them I can see things. But for bigger events, such as the fall of Cintra or the collapse of Romavek, I dream about them.”

“It’s against your code to tell me what you see of my future, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid so, Yennefer. But you are destined for things grander than what you are doing now.” Darceria smiled gently. “You kept Nilfgaard from traveling further north through Sodden. You saved many lives. Things will only grow better for you.”

Yennefer wasn’t expecting Darceria to know about that. She was in Pont Vanis to recover, to heal herself from what she had done in Sodden. The mage nodded her head, smiling tightly.

“Things will never get _better_ for me, princess. That just isn’t how my life is.”

Darceria listened as Yennefer left the room.

A few minutes later, there was a heavy but gently knock on her door. It was Geralt.

Darceria raised herself from the edge of the bed and crossed the room to open the door.

“Is something wrong, Geralt?” She asked him.

“No. I just wanted to…. to see you.” _Talk_. He meant talk. _Damn it._

Darceria fought the urge to smile. She nodded softly and turned to walk back to the bed. Geralt took her silence as an invitation, stepping into her room and closing the door behind himself.

“Do you know where we will go in the morning?”

“West.” He answered gruffly.

Darceria nodded again. She motioned for him to sit next to her. She was unsure of his intentions, of what he wanted.

“Don’t mind Zephyrina. She can be an ass sometimes. She’s just overprotective.”

Geralt had been the receiver of many flares and snide comments from Zephyrina throughout the evening.

“She cares about you.” Geralt looked to Darceria, amber eyes searching her face. “I don’t much care for how things have been between us this evening.”

Darceria said nothing. She didn’t know what he wanted to hear. Geralt didn’t like her silence. He didn’t know what to say.

“You’re confused about me.”

“Yes.” Even though she knew it wasn’t a question, she confirmed his statement.

“Why?”

“Tonight is not the night to discuss my feelings towards you, Geralt.”

 _Feelings_. The word almost made him cringe. How could an otherworldly creature such as Darceria feel anything towards him?

“Then don’t discuss it. Just let me be here for you.”

Darceria nodded, biting the inside of her cheek.

“Will you stay for the night?” She asked him as she brushed her hair over one shoulder. He nodded once.

“If you’ll have me.”

The little smile that tugged at her lips warmed something inside of him.


	6. Four

Feeling something beneath her move, Darceira jolted awake. She brought her hand up to rub her eyes and then placed her hands flat on what she thought was the bed. But whatever she was laying on top of had a heart beat. She could feel it as well as the steady rise and fall of their chest. 

Her stomach fluttered as she realized it was Geralt beneath her. How they got into this position, she wasn’t sure. She was positive that they fell asleep on their own sides of the bed. 

Darceria silently debated leaving the bed. She could hear someone out in the hallway, Jaskier from the sounds of it. That meant Zephyrina was more than likely up too. 

However, the thought of just staying there in the comforts of Geralt’s arms sounded much more pleasant. Very carefully, she put her head back down on his chest and closed her eyes. Her fingers gently brushed over his dark gray tunic shirt. Their legs were tangled beneath the blankets. One of his hands was tucked behind his head while his opposite one rested on her lower back. It was a cozy setting, one that she relished in. She could stay there forever if she had to, listening to his heart beating in his chest and to the way he took a breath every twenty seconds or so. He was a shallow breather, even for being asleep.

“Are you awake?” His voice was even more rough than usual from sleep. 

“Yes.” Darceria fought the urge to lift her head. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“I’ve been up for a while.”

She hummed softly. His hand on her back moved just a little. His fingers curled into the thin material of her gown. Darceria slowly inhaled. Goosebumps crossed her skin. Geralt felt her shiver above him. 

“Are you cold?”

“I’m warm.” She answered honestly. 

Geralt was looking down at her, trying to talk himself into saying what he wanted to say, what he knew had to be said eventually. However, a part of him told him that it was best to stay silent. She was too good, too pure for him. He didn’t deserve the warmth that she brought into his life. He wasn’t even sure what he’d tell her, how he’d explain to her what he knew. He knew for sure that he wanted to be around her. When she was absent, he felt a little lost like he didn’t know what to do. She was confident even with her disability. She was stubborn as hell too. She’d exhibited that just in the short time she had been hexed. She refused help most of the time, and even when she knew it would be wiser to just let one of them assist her she refused to let anyone help her. 

A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. 

“Darceria? Are you awake?” Zephyrina asked.

“Damn it.” Darceria cursed. She slid off of Geralt and sat up on the bed, brushing her unruly hair out of her face. “Erm, yes, Zephyrina.”

“…. Is Geralt in there? He isn’t anywhere else to be found.”

Darceria was silent. She wasn’t sure if he wanted anyone else to know he was with her the entire night.

“Do you need something, Zephyrina?” Geralt’s stern voice called. Darceria could hear Zephyrina and Jaskier giggle.

“We’ll let you two be for a while longer.” Jaskier snickered. 

Darceria absentmindedly rubbed her arm, her head turned away from Geralt and to the door. He sat up, propping one hand behind himself. She sat next to him on her knees. Her hands fell to her lap, where she began to mess with the material of he nightgown. She could feel Geralt watching her, his amber gaze soft but stern.

“Will you give me your hand?” Darceria quietly asked. Geralt hesitated, his eyes flickering down to her hands. She was nervous. Why was she nervous?

He placed his hand on top of both of hers. She pulled one hand out to place it on top of his. Her soft fingertips were a stark contrast to his rough skin.

“How long are we going to dance around this, Geralt?” She trailed her fingertips across his knuckles, each one as scarred as the last.

“I don’t dance.”

He was trying to make the situation light. She smiled softly and nodded her head. 

In the pitch black void that was her sight, a figure briefly appeared. It was big and looming, almost monstrous with its sharply defined outline. It disappeared just as soon as Geralt finished talking. She furrowed her brows together just slightly, confused. What had she just seen?

“I know.” She continued, hoping to get him to speak again. The task alone was a difficult one. “You so rudely declined to dance with me when we met.”

He grunted out a reply. Darceria kept her head tilted down, her white gaze cast down. The feeling of her fingers ghosting across the back of his hand tickled.

“Will you at least tell me if I’m being naive to think that there’s something here? Something between us?” The words came out as a soft plea. She was desperate to know if he felt the same for her as she did for him, to know if all of this would be fruitless.

Geralt said nothing. He couldn’t deny the attraction he felt for her. Attraction was pretty insignificant to what he felt. How did Zephyrina describe it all those years ago? _Magnetism_. His draw to her was magnetic. That was the best way he could describe it. The second he met her, he was drawn to her, pulled to her almost violently. If he’d had the proper emotional capacity to know just what he was feeling, he would’ve gotten whiplash from the pull.

His silence echoed loudly in Darceria’s ears. Her throat tightened and breathing became difficult. His silence meant he didn’t feel the same way. He didn’t feel anything towards her.

She nodded softly, pulling her hands away from him. She slipped gracefully off the bed, raking her fingers through her hair in an attempt to figure out what to do.

“Where are you going?” Geralt watched her carefully.

“I-I’m leaving.” She answered hastily before turning and moving swiftly towards the door. She could hear him move, feel his heavy but quiet footsteps against the floorboards as he hurried to catch her. Just as she pulled the door open, his hand caught it above her head and pushed it shut. She jumped from the echoing thud she wasn’t prepared for.

She turned to face him, her back meeting the wooden door. He was close to her, impossibly close. His scent flooded her, cancelling out every other smell in the room. His hand still held the door shut. His eyes focused on her.

“I don’t want you to leave.”

“If there’s nothing here, then why fight me leaving, Geralt?” She whispered. Her eyebrows knitted together just slightly. She wasn’t looking up at him like she normally would. Her head was tilted down.

He pushed every thought, every doubt in his head aside and reached out to brush the rough pads of his fingers along her jaw. The little flinch that jolted her body don’t go unnoticed by him. Her eyes closed and the way she leaned into his touch like she trusted him with her life made his slow heart beat quicker.

“Saying…. what I feel isn’t easy for me.” He breathed out. “Because I’m uncertain if I am even capable of feeling anything.”

Darceria placed her hand on the back of his and turned her head to kiss his palm. The simple action took him by surprise. His lips parted and his brows furrowed at the tingling sensation.

“You feel, Geralt.” She trailed the tips of her nails across the back of his hand. “I’ve felt what you’ve endured. There’s just…. There aren’t very many positive things you’ve experienced in your long lifetime.”

“Explain.” He told her, curious to know more. Her fingers wrapped around his large wrist and she pulled his hand away from her face. She slipped past him and made her way towards the bed, her hand still holding his. She sat down on the edge of the bed. He sat beside her, watching her as she pulled his hand into her lap. 

“The other night when we were in bed and I…. I touched you, I felt everything you’d ever felt in your life. Just from that, I know that you are capable of feeling emotions.” She traced each line and crease in his large palm. “You’ve loved and you’ve lost and you’ve felt pain. You are _capable_ of emotions.”

“Can you tell what I feel for you?” He quietly asked her. Maybe then it would be easier to get across what he was feeling, what he wanted to say but didn’t know how to.

She shook her head. 

“I wasn’t searching for that. I was just looking into what you’ve felt in the past.”

“Perhaps you should try again.” He suggested.

“Another time. Right now, Zephyrina and the others are waiting for us.”

***

Darceria listened to the sounds of villagers moving about around her. She rode atop Winston, her white horse. In front of her were Geralt and Ciri riding on Roach. And behind her were Jaskier and Zephyrina atop Ada.

Darceria brushed her fingers through Winston’s gray tinted white mane. Through touching the creature, she could see what it was seeing. It was a difficult feat, one that required magic. Darceria used it when she was traveling in areas where sight was almost necessary, like crowded streets. 

She listened faintly as Jaskier and Zephyrina carried on a quiet conversation behind her. They were gossiping about her and the witcher having apparently shared a room the previous night. 

“They haven’t so much as spoken to each other all day, Zephyrina. I doubt they did anything last night.”

“Then what was he doing in her room?” Zephyrina whispered. She was concerned and almost worried about Darceria. What had happened when the oracle was alone with the witcher? Darceria had been particularly quiet all morning. 

Darceria’s sensitive ears picked up a sound, an achingly familiar laugh from somewhere ahead of her. She jerked on the reins and Winston came to a stop. Naturally, she tuned everything out, everything except for the laugh. It was airy and sweet but there was sinister element to the laugh. A sense of dread flooded Darceria’s stomach at the sound. 

Upon hearing the two horses behind him stop, Geralt brought Roach to a stop and turned to look over his shoulder at Darceria. Her head was turned just a little to the right, her mouth open and her brows drawn together. Her skin was pale but her cheeks were tinted a soft pink. 

“Darceria?” He spoke her name. There was no response from the oracle. 

Zephyrina started to move her horse up next to Darceria, but Darceria slipped down from Winston’s back. She landed lightly on her feet. Still holding the bridle to her horse, she started to walk away from her group.

“What-What is she doing?” Jaskier furrowed his brows, looking to Geralt.

“Hell if I know.” The witcher muttered under his breath. He got down from Roach, leaving Ciri on the mare. “Stay with Jaskier and Zephyrina.”

Ciri nodded once, bright blue eyes flickering back to Darceria. The redhead was easily moving through a crowd of people, leading Winston just behind her. 

The stench of decaying bodies filled Darceria’s nose. Then there was fire. The bodies were being burned. A chill traveled up her spine, leaving goosebumps on her skin. The sound of echoing screams filled her ears, blocking out any other sounds including the laugh. The sharp clanking of swords meeting made her flinch. It sounded so close, so familiar. 

Geralt reached out to put his hand on her arm to stop her from moving away. The second his hand met her, she spun around to face him, fear crossing her face. Geralt recognized the emotion, he’d seen it plenty of times before. But seeing it on her was gut-wrenching. 

For what felt like minutes but had to only be a few seconds, they stood there. Darceria’s white eyes fell to the ground as she tilted her head down while Geralt kept his gaze on her. He made no attempt to move or even speak. He didn’t want to scare her even more. 

The sounds of metal on metal faded and the quiet chatter of the crowd nearby took over. Darceria could hear people moving around her. Winston was right next to her. She could feel his towering presence. Standing in front of her was Geralt of Rivia. 

“Geralt.” She whispered his name. 

“I’m here.” He told her, speaking loud enough so she could gauge where he was based on his voice.

Darceria’s heart was beating firmly in her chest. Her stomach churned. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, still hesitant to move.

“I heard her.” 

“Who?”

Darceria said nothing for a while. Her lips pressed together in a firm line. There was no way she had heard who she thought she did. The owner of the laugh was dead, and had been for two decades. 

“My sister.”

***

Darceria refused to leave the village outside of Pont Vanis. She wouldn’t explain to anyone why she wanted to stay in the little place, but she insisted and the group listened. 

Jaskier did little to complain. He didn’t mind settling down in a tavern for the rest of the day to drink and sing. Ciri was compliant. She didn’t care what they did. There really hadn’t been somewhere they had to be so why not stop where the oracle wanted to? Zephyrina had been the only one who didn’t like that Darceria wouldn’t answer their questions. 

Darceria wasn’t listening to the conversation Jaskier and Geralt were having. Ciri was listening to them and Zephyrina was in the middle of staring Darceria down until the oracle said something.

Little did she know Darceria wasn’t in the tavern mentally. She was searching the village, listening carefully to each and every voice.

Geralt knew the redhead had zoned out. Her head was tilted down and her white eyes hadn’t blinked in quite some time. He watched her for any signs of distress, any signs of fear that she’d displayed earlier.

_“Princess.”_

She jolted suddenly, blinking her eyes as she was pulled back to the tavern. The voice echoed in her head, telling her that whoever it was wasn’t speaking out loud. They were doing so telepathically.

_“Don’t be alarmed, princess.”_

She didn’t recognize the voice but anxiety filled her entirety. Whoever it was knew who she was.

_“Darceria, I’d like to speak with you.”_

_“Who are you?”_ Darceria clenched her teeth together tightly.

_“I am the only one who knows what really happened to Romavek. Your sister told me.”_

Geralt noticed the way Darceria was tensed you, her fingers curled into fists in her lap and her jaw flexed as she gritted her teeth.

The witcher’s attention was pulled from Darceria to watch a blonde woman cross the tavern and head in their direction. She wore leather pants and black riding boots. A white tunic top was tucked into her pants and a black leather corset was worn over top of the white top. Her hair fell in loose golden curls over her shoulders and down her back. Her eyes were a piercing blue. On her hip rested a sword. Geralt could spot a knife sticking from her boot.

He became guarded, watching the woman approach them with little concern to the witcher. Her eyes were fixated on the redhead sitting across from him.

 _“My sister is dead.”_ Darceria’s words were harsh and bitter, and stung her chest.

_“Think again, princess.”_

“Hello, Darcy.”

The oracle’s lips parted and the air in her lungs was expelled. The owner of the voice stood right next to her well within reaching distance. Darceria choked on her words, unable to process what was going on.

“Darcy?” Zephyrina repeated, furrowing her eyebrows at the blonde. “Excuse me, who are you?”

“Princess Gisela of Romavek. Daughter of the Dragon of the East. Rightful heir to the throne.”

Those at the table were stunned into silence. Geralt watched the woman who claimed to be Darceria’s sister. He didn’t trust her already.

“Well-Erm, uh, there’s a slight-a slight problem with that.” Jaskier pointed out, rubbing the back of his neck. “There is no throne to Romavek anymore.”

Gisela briefly glared at the man before her eyes fell on Darceria, who was frozen from shock.

“Come along, sister.” The blonde turned and began to leave the tavern.

Darceria turned her head in the direction of her sister, listening to her heart beating. She was there. Gisela was alive. Darceria wasn’t hearing things.

The second the oracle pushed herself to her feet and tried to follow her sister, Geralt was there to grab her arm and stop her.

“Geralt, let me go–,”

“Darceria, you can’t follow this woman.” He spoke lowly. His eyes were focused on Gisela as she stopped at the door of the tavern. Her eyes met his and a smirk pulled at the corner of her lips. “She cannot he trusted.”

Darceria shook her head, pulling her arm from his grip.

“She’s my sister–,”

“Who is suppose to be _dead_.” He stepped in her path.

“But she isn’t!” Darceria raised her voice. “She isn’t and I am following her so either move or I’ll make you.”

He growled under his breath, studying Darceria. She was serious, so serious that she was going to follow her supposedly dead sister.

“Let me come with you.”

“No. I don’t need you to protect me.” Darceria spoke through her teeth before she started walking again. Geralt stepped out of her way and watched her hastily move across the tavern.

“Where is she going?” Zephyrina asked Geralt, moving to stand a few feet behind the witcher.

“With her sister.” He answered, sighing through his nose.

“Has she ever spoken to you about her sister? Her family?” Zephyrina’s gaze found Geralt’s face as he turned to move back to the table they had been sitting at.

“Briefly.” 

“I’m so glad she shares things with you, witcher.”

“Now isn’t the time to be pissed at me, Zephyrina.” He picked up his bag and threw it over his shoulder. “Keep Ciri close and stay here.” He told Jaskier.

“Where are you going?” The bard asked but he received no answer.

***

Gisela had been walking a fair distance ahead of Darceria, leading the woman out of the busy part of town and down the main road that crossed through the forest.

“Are you going to explain to me what’s happening right now, Gisela?” Darceria was growing a little irritated with the silence. She wanted answers to the questions clouding her judgement.

“I’ll explain everything when we get to Stregobor.”

Darceria stopped in her tracks, her fingers curling around her dark gray skirt.

“Who is Stregobor?”

Hearing that her sister had stopped moving, Gisela turned around to face the redhead.

“He’s the one who saved me.”

“Saved you? From what?”

“King Arkin.”

“Our father?” Darceria furrowed her brows together. “Gisela, he’d never do anything to hurt you. He loved you–,”

“He loved _you_ , Darceria.” Gisela snapped, her fingers curling into fists by her sides. “I was only ever the disappointment, the daughter he wished he’d never had. He wanted me dead!”

“That isn’t true, Gisela–,”

“It is! It is true! You’re just too blind to see it!” Gisela cut her off. She began to take steps towards the oracle. “You were always the perfect child. Always doing exactly what our dear father wanted. The little Flame of Romavek could never do anything wrong. You couldn’t see the way father looked at me like he wished I never existed.”

Gisela stopped once she stood just a foot away from her sister. She was a couple inches taller than the redhead. The pain in Gisela’s blue gaze morphed into anger and resentment.

“Father kept you hidden from the harsh reality of the Palace. You were too precious.”

“I was a child–,”

“That is a shitty excuse, Darceria!” Gisela raised her voice. “You were of age! You were due to betroth that knight a month before Romavek fell! You were old enough to know! Father could control you. That’s why he never told you.”

“You killed-Gisela, you killed Tassilo.” Darceria whispered.

Gisela scoffed and shook her head. A dry laugh left her lips as she turned away from the oracle.

“Is that what you were told?”

Darceria said nothing.

“Who told you? Was it Marick?”

She clenched her jaw at the name of her late husband.

“He practically worshiped Arkin. He’d do anything for that oaf. Why else would he willingly marry the Blind Princess of Romavek?”

Darceria’s stomach tightened.

“Marick loved me–,”

“He loved the title that would’ve come with betrothing you!”

Warm tears trickled down Darceria’s cheeks. She hastily wiped her cheeks and took a shaky deep breath.

There was a sudden shift in the atmosphere. Darceria could feel a being, a sorcerer nearby. He stood just behind Gisela.

“Take it easy, Gisela.” The man spoke. Darceria easily recognized his voice as the one who had been talking to her through her thoughts.

Darceria stayed where she was, fingers holding fists of her skirt. The man passed Gisela and approached the younger princess.

“She must not know everything at once.” There was a taunting tone in his voice.

“Stregobor.” Darceria said his name. The feeling she got when she heard his voice made her stomach churn. He couldn’t be trusted. He was dangerous. “You’re a mage.”

“How can you tell?” Stregobor held his hands behind his back, watching the oracle carefully.

“I can feel your magic. What is going on? What do you want from me?”

“Your gift.” He answered, taking one more step towards her. He raised his hand to stroke the side of her face but she easily smacked his hand away and stepped back. 

“Don’t put your hands on me.” She spoke through her teeth.

“It is as you said, Gisela.” Stregobor returned to clasping his hands behind his back and moved to stand next to the blonde. “Her senses are extremely developed, perhaps more than anything I’ve ever come across.”

Out of nowhere, Darceria’s ears began to ring and there was a sharp pain in the front of her skull. Her sense of balance disappeared and she felt herself stumbling backwards. She tripped and lost her footing, landing flat on her backside. Her fingers curled into the dirt beneath her and a cry of pain escaped her lips. 

In the darkness that was her vision, a figure began to form. It was small and dainty. The energy coming off of the figure was strong and compelling. This was Darceria. She was having a vision of herself. The fuzzy edges around the figure began to harden, creating a more precise outline of the oracle. She could see her curly hair and the way her eyes were closed. Her eyes were always closed when she had visions of herself.

Beside her figure, another began to form. This one was a stark contrast to the redhead. It was massive and hulking with broad shoulders and a hardened face. His jaw was a little stubbly and sharply defined. The hilt of a sword could be seen peeking out from behind his right shoulder. It wasn’t until he opened his eyes to reveal piercing yellow orbs that Darceria knew who it was. It was the witcher she’d grown strangely and intensely fond of. 

A third figure formed quicker than the others, taking on the hardened shape that matched her sister’s sharp voice. Blonde curls were pinned back of out Gisela’s face. She carried a dagger as she hastily approached Darceria and Geralt. The oracle watched helplessly as Gisela raised the dagger to strike her figure. The blade met Darceria’s chest and as soon as blood began to seep from the wound, Geralt and Gisela’s forms were gone. Darceria’s figure was left alone to collapse in a pool of her own blood. 

A hand on her shoulder made her flinch. Her figure disappeared and blackness returned to her vision. The ringing in her ears stopped and the pain in her head went away. Darceria could sense the witcher next to her. She could smell his earthy scent tainted with faint traces of man. His heart was racing just a little faster than usual. He was concerned. 

“Where are they?” Darceria’s voice was raspy. 

“They’re gone. Did they hurt you?”

“No.” She shook her head, turning so that she looked towards him. She lowered her head a little so Geralt couldn’t see her face completely. “They must’ve fled when I had the vision.”

“You’re lucky Stregobor didn’t try to kill you.” Geralt easily pulled Darceria to her feet, his hand leaving her arm to find her back. He wanted to make sure she was steady on her own feet before he let her go.

“How do you know he was here?”

“His scent is in the air.”

“Do you know him?”

Geralt fell silent for a few heartbeats, his jaw locking at the ache that came from the question. 

“If you wish to know, I will tell you later. But a storm is coming and we’d best not be caught out here in the open.” His voice was soft and gentle. 

Darceria nodded understandingly. She could feel it too, the liveliness in the air, the electricity buzzing in the clouds. 

***

Darceria came to stop just outside of the tavern, her hand on Geralt’s arm tightening significantly. 

“I don’t…. I don’t want everyone knowing what happened.”

“If you think I’d tell, then you’d be mistaken. I don’t really know what happened.” He softly shook his head. “I found you collapsed in the middle of the road alone.”

“If you tell Zephyrina that, then she’ll panic and worry. I don’t want to answer any questions.”

“Then you won’t be asked any. Since night is coming, we will stay here in town. In the morning, we’ll be leaving. If that’s okay with you.”

Darceria nodded gently, unable to use her voice. 


	7. Five

The group of outcasts found an inn with just enough rooms for them to stay in for the night. Jaskier and Geralt had their own rooms while the ladies of the group shared one. Zephyrina ended up leaving shortly after Darceria told her that she was tired and didn’t want to talk. Zephyrina went across the hall to Jaskier’s room. Darceria could hear the door to the bard’s room shut firmly. She knew Zephyrina was upset with being told practically nothing all day, but Darceria didn’t even know exactly what happened. She didn’t have the answers she needed.

Darceria stayed in her bed, laying on her side with her back to Ciri, waiting patiently for the young girl to fall asleep.

“Darceria?” Ciri whispered her name.

“Yes, Ciri?”

“I’ve only ever heard of Romavek in stories my grandmother would tell me.” Ciri propped herself up on her elbow. “Is it true there were dragons in the mountains of Romavek?”

Darceria smiled just a little.

“Yes. Romavek was the Land of the Dragons, after all.”

“I know you don’t want to talk tonight, but I’d love to hear stories some time. I’m sure you have a lot of good stories.”

“Perhaps another time, child.” Darceria nodded her head just a little.

***

There was a soft, timid knock on the door to the room Geralt was in. He had been sitting on the edge of his bed, his head hung and his elbows on his knees. He could hear Darceria get up out of bed in her room down the hall, her movements gentle and graceful as she crossed the room to the door. She closed it carefully behind herself, not wanting to wake Cirilla. He could hear her walk down the hall towards his room and then knock.

Geralt pushed himself to his feet and went to the door, not bothering to put a shirt on.

“I-I’m-I want to apologize for the way I acted earlier.” Her voice was quiet and meek. “I was-I was rude and it was uncalled for. You were just trying to keep me safe.”

“Don’t apologize.” He shook his head a little. “You found out your sister was alive. How you reacted was understandable.”

Darceria nodded, biting her bottom lip as she tilted her head down.

“Come sit with me.” He quietly requested, reaching his hand out for hers. Darceria accepted, her fingers wrapping around his. Though he didn’t need to, he guided her into the room and to his bed.

“I always find it easiest to talk to you, especially when I can’t sleep.” She said. He hummed.

Geralt sat down on the edge of the bed and Darceria followed. She sat close to him, one of her feet tucked underneath herself so she could face him. 

“You said earlier that you had a vision.”

“Yes.” She confirmed. Her hand still remained in his. She was comfortable with this. It was odd, but she found solace in just simply touching the witcher. But nonetheless, she pulled her hand away and placed both of them in her lap. “I don’t usually have visions while I’m awake unless the event in the vision is life altering for me.”

“What was it about?”

She took her bottom lip between her teeth. She never told anyone of her visions, or at least in full detail. It was unsafe for her to do so.

“I can’t say. But I…. I saw you.”

His brows furrowed together just slightly.

“You saw me?”

“Mhmm.” She hummed quietly. “I only know it was you because I could feel your magic. The aura you give off strictly belongs to witchers. Yours, however, is different than the other witchers I’ve crossed. Stronger, more intense.”

He wanted to ask her about the witchers she’d met before him but now didn’t seem like the proper time.

“Your eyes are….” Darceria trailed off, shaking her head with a little smile on her lips. “Easily the most stunning things I’ve ever seen.”

He was quiet, taking in her words and pushing them aside. Surely she wouldn’t say the same if she saw them in real life.

“Granted, I haven’t seen much except what the visions give me.” She laughed softly at her own joke and Geralt cracked a little smile. “But your eyes are captivating.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you could see them.” He gruffly spoke.

“Oh, I doubt that.”

“What did you see when you had the vision? What did I look like?” He asked curiously. Darceria didn’t answer immediately. She took her time to think.

“Why do you ask?”

“I want…. I want to know how you picture me in your head.” He quietly admittedly. He was afraid she envisioned some sort of beast when she thought of him. Surely that wouldn’t be too off from him, but he didn’t want her to think ill of him.

“Can I?” She held her hand out, hovering her fingers over the back of his hand. He nodded, forgetting for a moment that she couldn’t see his movement. Taking his silence as an okay, Darceria placed her hand on his.

He gazed down at the redhead, his amber eyes studying her face. Her head was tilted up just a little and her lips were parted. Her milky white eyes gazed blankly at his chest. Her soft warm fingertips started at his hand.

“You’re cold.” She commented.

“So I’ve been told.” His voice was low. He was glad that they shared a sensitivity to sound. He didn’t have to talk so loud with her. He didn’t have to try to be heard. She always heard him.

Her feathery touch trailed over his palm, stopping at a scar that stretched across the sensitive skin of his palm. It started on his pinky and trailed all the way across to the meaty flesh underneath his thumb.

“What is that from?”

“A blade.”

She nodded softly. Her touched continued to travel upwards but not for long. There was a thin scar on the inside of his wrist that ran parallel to his veins. Her brows furrowed together just slightly. Her lips parted and a soft breath escaped.

He could hear her heart starting to beat faster. She was worried.

“Geralt–,”

“That’s from the the mutation.” He explained, cutting her off before she could panic too much. “I didn’t do it to myself.”

She nodded softly, the concern slowly disappearing from her features. She tentatively licked her bottom lip as her fingers trailed around his forearm to the back of his wrist. There was a three inch wide divot in his skin not far from where his wrist bent.

“And this one?”

“A troll.”

The corners of her lips turned up just a little at the thought.

“A troll?”

“Yes.” He couldn’t help the smile that crossed his own lips. “It was huge and uglier than me.”

“Oh, there are many things in this world far uglier than you.” She told him as her fingers started their journey again. “Ugliness runs deeper than the skin.”

“You don’t know of the things I’ve done.” His voice lowered to a whisper.

“Yes, I do.” She tilted her head up a little, her eyes finding his face. He could see the faint outline of her irises behind the haziness that had taken her vision. “I can see it every time I touch you, and sometimes even when I hear your voice.”

He tilted his head to the side just slightly, curious. Her hand stopped at the bend of his elbow, admiring the firm muscle beneath cold flesh. She could now feel every little bump, every little scar and tooth mark across his skin. The numbers had gradually increased the closer she was getting to his chest.

“I’ve never been able to see someone through their voice.” She shook her head softly. “But you’re different, Geralt of Rivia.”

“Different doesn’t mean bad.” He told her.

“No.” She agreed. “I never implied that it did. I like being able to see through your voice.”

“What do you see when you hear me?” He fought the urge to reach out and brush down a crimson curl. He didn’t want his actions to spook her.

“I see a shape…. a figure.” She paused for a moment to think. Her fingers began to trail up the front of his bicep and then over his clavicle. There was a large scar over the bone that was hidden beneath thick muscle and icy skin.

“A werewolf.” He answered her silent question. She nodded softly in acknowledgement to his words.

“I assume it to be you.” Her touch continued until she reached his neck. Her hand lingered there for a moment, unsure if he’d be okay with her touching the most vulnerable part of his body. “It’s large and broad. It matches your voice and the muscles I feel beneath your cold skin perfectly. But there’s a softness to the figure.”

“What does that mean?” Geralt furrowed his brows together.

When he didn’t move her hand away from the bottom of his neck, she started her journey north. She moved slower than before, taking more time to feel each breath he took and the way his throat moved when he swallowed.

“It means you aren’t as bad of a person as you see yourself to be. You’re a kind man, a gentle soul.”

He almost snorted, but he didn’t want to scare her. He didn’t want her to stop exploring him. He was wary though. He didn’t like anyone touching his neck. It was drilled into him during his training days. Having the neck at risk meant death. It took everything in him not to fight back against his witcher instincts.

“You just haven’t been dealt a fair hand in life.” Her touched stopped where his neck met his jaw. Though she wasn’t really pressing into his skin, she could feel his pulse. “Your heart beats slower than anything I’ve ever heard or felt before.”

“Hmm.” He grunted lowly. She felt the vibration in her fingertips. An airy giggle left her lips.

“That’s why you’re so cold. Blood doesn’t pump through you like it does everyone else.”

His eyes watched her carefully, studying her white eyes that stared blankly at him. Her fingertips trailed along his scratchy jaw until she found a thin long scar towards the front of his jaw.

“And this one?”

“A skinwalker.”

The soft pads of her index and middle fingers traced over the scar for a few heartbeats before she moved on. She found the corner of his lips. His mouth fell open just slightly and a warm breath escaped. The corners of her lips pulled up at the sensation of his breath against her fingertips. She could hear his heart pick up in pace just a little. His bottom lip was plump and soft, a nice surprise.

Her breath hitched in her throat as she felt him press a velvet kiss to the tips of her fingers. His large hand came up to hold hers. His skin was course, rough from use, but his touch was soft. He guided her hand so that he could kiss her palm and then the inside of her wrist.

“What I wouldn’t give to see you if even for a moment.” She whispered.

“Seeing me wouldn’t be as grand as you think.”

“Such a pessimist.” Darceria smiled softly at the feeling of his lips against the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist again. “Why are you against the thought of me seeing you?”

“M’not against it.” He grunted. 

“Yes you are. I can feel it. Your opposition. It’s sour and upsetting, quite frankly.”

He said nothing, pressing his lips against her skin once more before he lowered her hand from his face so she could no longer touch him.

“I am not what you deserve.” His words were admitted in a quiet, timid murmur. “That’s why…. I’ve been so difficult.”

“And how would you know what I deserve?” She raised one eyebrow. She turned her hand over to lace their fingers together. She admired how his were thicker and longer than her own. “You aren’t the only one who has done terrible things, Geralt. No one is perfect. I-I couldn’t save my kingdom.” She smiled just a little, though it was sad and almost heartbreaking. 

“You couldn’t control what happened. You were young.”

Darceria nodded softly, swallowing the lump in her throat and pushing the emotions that came with mentioning her kingdom to the side. She didn’t want to deal with them right then. She just wanted to enjoy Geralt’s company. 

“I do want to talk about it, but not now.” She shook her head. 

“We need to rest anyway.“

“Would you like me to stay?” She asked him hesitantly. “Or I can leave, if you’d rather that.”

“Stay, please.” 

Darceria nodded, smiling just slightly at his husky voice. 

The two settled into bed, laying so that they faced each other. Darceria placed her hand on his bicep, holding his bare arm. Her thumb traced small circles into his cool skin. His hand came up to hold her hip. He watched her carefully, gauging her reaction. A small smile crossed her lips when he put his hand on her. He slipped his hand around to her lower back and easily pulled her closer to him. The breathy giggle that escaped her lips warmed his chest. 

His eyes studied her face, admiring her messy curls that fell on to the pillow behind her. His gaze flickered down to her lips. He could hear her heart racing with anticipation. Did she see him kissing her in the near future? Did she know what was coming?

Deciding not to linger on the thought too long, Geralt leaned forward and tentatively pressed his lips to hers. She seemed to melt into his chest, her hand gripping his bicep softly. They moved perfectly in sync, almost as if they knew what the other kissed like. 

He pulled away first, pressing his forehead against hers. Darceria panted softly through her parted lips.

“You didn’t have to stop, you know.” She wore a little dazed smile.

“Rest is more important.” He returned the small smile, brushing his thumb over her pink tinted cheek.

***

Geralt awoke from his light slumber to Darceria moving. She slipped out of his arms and sat up on the edge of the bed. He opened his eyes, blinking a few times to clear his vision. Her back was to him. Her head hung and her hands rested on the edge of the bed, gripping the linens.

“It’s too early to be awake.” He grunted.

“I can’t sleep.” She murmured gently. “My sister…. She’s alive after two decades.”

He placed his hand on her lower back, offering the little comfort he was able to.

“How is she alive?”

“I don’t know.” Darceria shook her head softly. “Marick…. He told me that she was killed before she could ever leave the palace.”

She chewed on her bottom lip for a few moments before pushing herself to her feet.

“I cannot sit here much longer and do nothing. I-I can’t sleep. I hear his voice when i close my eyes.”

“Whose voice?” 

“Stregobor’s. He said I couldn’t know everything yet.”

“He isn’t trustworthy, Darceria.”

“But he was telling the truth. I could hear his heart beating steadily. They falter and pick up speed when someone is lying.”

Geralt held back a sigh. He wasn’t sure what else he could say to get her to believe him. 

“Darceria, it’s late. In the morning, we can find answers to your questions. But you need to rest.”

She nodded her head softly. She settled on the stiff mattress with Darceria’s back pressed against his chest. Their bodies seemed to mold together perfectly. She fit like a puzzle piece against his firm and muscular body. 

“You think you are the only monster here.” She hummed softly, brushing her fingers over the back of his hand that rested on her stomach. “I am the last oracle ever…. and I…. I couldn’t preserve my kingdom. With all the gifts that come with being an oracle, I wasn’t…. I wasn’t good enough.”

Geralt said nothing. He didn’t know how to comfort her. He wasn’t sure what to do and he didn’t want to cross any lines. 

“Ask me something.” He spoke quietly, inching his head a little closer to her to bury his face in her messy curls. 

“What?”

“When you told me of what happened to your kingdom, you said you’d ask me something of my past.”

Darceria fell silent. She listened to his steady heart beating quietly, softly. 

“What do you remember of your family?”

Geralt said nothing for a long time. His thumb started to move, tracing little circles into the material of her gown. He hadn’t expected her to ask about his family. No one was ever interested in that sort of things. They were more fascinated with knowing what he’d done, what he’d murdered and witnessed in his century long life.

“I only remember my mother.” His words were hushed, muffled just slightly by her hair. His eyes were closed and he swore for a moment that he could see her, his mother, behind his eyelids. “She abandoned new at Kaer Morhen.”

“Why would she do that?”

“I don’t know.”

"What was she like?”

“She was gentle and…. kind. I’m-I’m unsure why she left me there.”

Speaking of his mother was foreign to the witcher. He never talked about her, never allowed himself to dwell on her memory. However, now that he was talking about her, he couldn’t help but think of what he’d seen after being bit by ghouls just a few weeks ago. The illusions he’d seen while suffering from the poison haunted him. 

“Her hair was red. Not as dark as yours though. And it was pin-straight.”

“What was her name?” 

“Visenna.”

Darceria nodded gently.

“Is that all you’d like to know?” He sounded a little surprised. 

“Is that all you’d like to share?” She countered, turning her head to glance over her shoulder. She decided to turn over to face him, though their legs still tangled beneath the quilts. 

“No. I…. I want you to know more.” The witcher admitted. He brushed a few curls out of her face so he could see her better. 

“In due time.” A little smile tugged at her lips. Her hand found the back of his that rested on the bed between them. Her fingers trailed up his arm and across his collarbone, feeling every bump of scar tissue and every incline of thick muscle beneath his skin. “There’s no need to share all in one night. I know that if either of us did, it would probably leave me in tears and I’d rather not get a headache tonight.”

“Why would you be in tears?”

“Because I know you haven’t been treated kindly all your life.” Her voice lowered. “I can feel the pain when I touch you.”

“Then don’t touch me.” Geralt pulled her hand away from his collarbone. The last thing he wanted her to do was feel the pain he’d gone through in his life. 

“How else am I suppose to see you?”

He grunted. 

“Let us rest.” Darceria closed her eyes and moved forward to tuck her head underneath his chin. “Tomorrow will be a busy one.”

***

When Geralt awoke, light was shining in from a window. He rubbed his eyes and rolled over, blindly searching for Darceria. When he didn’t feel her warmth, he opened his eyes to find he was alone in bed.

He sat up and brushed his hair out of his face. Before he had a chance to do much else, the door to the room was opening and Jaskier was walking in.

“Are you ill? You never sleep in this late.”

“Where’s Darceria?” Geralt watched the bard move over to Geralt’s bag. He pulled out a few articles of clothing and threw them at the witcher. 

“She’s down the street at the tavern with Ciri and Zephyrina. So what happened yesterday?” Jaskier put his hand on his hip as he looked at Geralt.

The White Wolf grunted in reply, running a hand over his face. 

“Oh, come on, Geralt! I know she had to tell you something.”

“She didn’t say much.”

“Well, what did she say?”

“If she wanted you to know, she would’ve told you.” Geralt threw his legs over the side of the bed and pushed himself to his feet. 

“That’s not fair.” Jaskier muttered.

“I’ll meet you at the tavern.” Geralt told him as he picked up the clothes Jaskier tossed on to the bed. 

Jaskier muttered a few curse words under his breath before he went to the door and pulled it open. Gisela stood there, casually leaning against the door frame and looking at her nails. 

“Shit!” Jaskier cursed, stepping away from the woman. 

Geralt tensed up. He very quickly checked for where his sword was. It was on the other side of the room from him next to Jaskier. 

“Hello, boys.” Gisela purred, her gaze finding Geralt. She tucked her hands into the pockets of her dark brown trousers. “Geralt of Rivia. The infamous Butcher of Blaviken.”

“Romina isn’t here. Jaskier told her.

“I’m not looking for her.” Gisela rolled her eyes at the bard. “I want to have a word with your witcher.”

“I have no interest in talking to you.” Geralt pulled on a shirt and moved across the room to gather his belongings.

“I’m sure my sister spoke of me, of what she was told happened. Wouldn’t you like to know how I survived?”

Geralt held the blonde’s gaze, exhaling softly.

“Leave, bard.” Gisela demanded. 

“I don’t take orders from you.” Jaskier shook his head, crossing his arms. “I’m staying.”

“Very well.” She sighed gently. She pulled her hand from her pocket and blew a dust in Jaskier’s face. The bard’s eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed. Geralt caught him before he could hit the ground. He eased the fall, placing Jaskier carefully on the floor.

Geralt knew it was just a sleeping spell but he still panicked for a moment. Gisela’s magic wasn’t as strong as a mage’s. 

Geralt picked up his sword and held it up to Gisela.

“If any harm comes to him-,”

“Relax.” The blonde stepped int the room, not concerned with the blade being pointed at her. “I have no interest in harming your precious bard. I’ve just come to warn you.”

Geralt watched as she pushed the tip of his sword aside with her finger. He let the weapon fall to his side. Amber eyes stayed locked on Gisela, who was gazing at him with piercing blue eyes. He couldn’t read her well. He couldn’t gauge what she wanted from him. 

“Warn me of what?”

“Of what my sister is capable of.” Gisela stopped when the toe of her boots were just inches from his. She looked up at the witcher, not shying away from focusing on her lips. “She’s dangerous and untrustworthy.” 

Geralt locked his jaw. 

“Says the one who killed her brother.”

This struck a nerve with the woman. She chuckled but it was cold and icy. She started to slowly encircle him like a predator would its prey. 

“You’re just as clueless as she is. I thought for sure that you’d know the truth of what happened to Romavek.”

“I try not to get into other people’s business.”

“But you…. You were there three days before the fall.” She was directly behind him now.

Geralt stiffened up just slightly as he listened carefully to the princess.

“What exactly were you going in Romavek, Geralt?” She was taunting him. “Rumors are that you were consulting the Queen. Consulting her about what?”

The witcher growled, turned around to face the blonde woman. 

“What do you want from me?”

Gisela placed her hand on his shoulder, her nails raking down the front of his shirt until she reached the wolf medallion. 

“Leave my sister. Cut any and all ties to her.”

“And if I don’t?” He spoke lowly.

“Then Darceria will find out about you and our mother conspiring to kill her.”


	8. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 ducat is worth (rounded up) $149 a piece today. I don’t know if the witcher uses a different measuring system but Cintra’s currency is ducats so i’m using that because Romavek is like Cintra’s sister but more secretive and probably not as badass

Darceria could feel the atmosphere shift when Geralt entered. The patrons within the tavern fell silent and the music slowed down until it was silent too. 

She turned her head in his direction, waiting for his scent to take over her senses. This would tell her that he was drawing near to the table she was at. 

As Jaskier slipped onto the bench beside Cirilla and Zephyrina, Geralt sat down next to Darceria. 

“Good morning, Geralt!” Ciri greeted him with enthusiasm and a smile.

“Good morning, Ciri.” Geralt nodded his head once at her. He heard Darceria next to him inhale softly. Her heart began to race quickly and she turned her head away from him.

“Darceria?” Zephyrina noticed a look of panic that crossed the redhead’s face. 

Darceria opened her mouth to speak and turned her head to Geralt. She didn’t say anything for a few moments. 

“What did you do?” She whispered. He wasn’t entirely sure what she was talking about but he had an idea.

“I will talk to you later.”

“No.” Zephyrina objected, furrowing her brows together as she looked at the two across from her. “I am sick of all the secrecy! If there’s anything you need to tell her, you can tell her now.”

Geralt held Zephyrina’s gaze, locking his jaw tightly.

“Darceria’s sister came into my room just before Jaskier and I left.” His words were harsh and bitter as he spoke. He was frustrated with not only Zephyrina but Gisela and himself as well.

“What did she want?” Darceria asked quietly.

“She tried to blackmail me.”

“With what?”

Geralt locked his jaw, casting his gaze across the room rather than to any at the table. 

“With what, Geralt?” Darceria repeated, this time a little more stern. 

“I don’t want to talk about it here.” He spoke quietly. 

Darceria took a slow deep breath, turning her head away from him. He saw the way she locked her jaw, upset that he wouldn’t speak. Zephyrina could see the irritation in Darceria’s face. Her eyes flickered over to Jaskier. 

“What happened?” 

“Oh, I-I don’t-I couldn’t-,”

“Gisela knocked him out with a spell.” Geralt cut the bard off, glaring at Zephyrina. “She wanted to talk to me.”

“Why?”

“Zephyrina-,”

“Enough.” Darceria spoke loud enough to silence the majority of the tavern. “If he wants to keep secrets, let him.”

“It’s not-,” Geralt stopped himself, closing his eyes tightly as he took a steady deep breath. He didn’t want to lose his temper. He stood from the table and stormed out of the bar. 

“That wasn’t fair, Darceria.” Jaskier frowned at the oracle. “Whatever it was that she told him, he’d never keep it from you without reason.”

Darceria said nothing to him. 

***

Darceria followed the witcher’s slow heartbeat and found him by the river that passed the village. He stood on one of the steep embankments, his hands curled into fists by his sides. Darceria could taste the anger in the air, bitter and unpleasant. 

He heard her heart and her soft steps. 

“I’m sorry for…. for saying what I did, Geralt.” She spoke quietly. “I was only…. only upset.”

Geralt said nothing but he did let out a breath.

“Did she try to hurt you?”

“Not conventionally.”

“What does that mean?” 

He turned around and looked at Darceria for a few moments. 

“I have something that I need to tell you, Darceria.”

She nodded softly, gathering the material of her gray and black skirt in her fists. The tone in voice worried her so she did her best to prepare herself.

“I visited Romavek once. Queen Linota sent a knight for me. She offered me 10,000 ducats to kill a beast. I made the journey to Romavek and when I spoke to Linota, she said that the beast was sabotaging the kingdom. She only ever called it ‘the beast.’ She claimed it brainwashed her husband and those within the Palace walls, saying destruction was coming to the kingdom.”

Darceria inhaled sharply, her lips parting. Her heart began to thump in her chest. Geralt knew then that she knew who he was talking about. She remembered telling her parents about her visions of a kingdom falling but she never once specified that it was Romavek that would perish. Her mother just assumed that it was Romavek.

“She told me that the creature was an oracle within the Palace. She never said that the oracle was her daughter.”

“You were going to slaughter me…. because my mother wanted you to?” Her voice was weak and fragile. 

Geralt shook his head gently. 

“I don’t kill oracles. I told her that and she kept pushing, insisting that you were…. you were an abomination. I left the Palace and three days later, Romavek collapsed.”

Darceria closed her eyes and trembled as chills ran up her spine. She could hear the screams and spell the burning flesh from the riots that started within her home. 

“I wanted to tell you but I didn’t know how to bring it up. I’m sorry.”

“You did nothing wrong, Geralt.” She whispered, taking a few steps towards the embankment. “I knew my mother never really cared for me, but I just…. I didn’t know she wanted me dead.”

Geralt said nothing as he watched her. She opened her milky white eyes and took a slow deep breath. She moved to the edge of the steep embankment and Geralt flinched, ready to grab her and pull her away from the edge. She sat down carefully on her knees.

“Is that what Gisela is wanting to blackmail you with?”

Geralt shifted his weight from one foot to the other. 

“Yes.”

“I can’t see what she wants.” Darceria brought her hands up to rub her eyes and her face.

“What are you going to do?”

“I need to talk to her.”

“I’d like it if I was there when you do.”

She turned her head to face Geralt’s direction.

“I can take care of myself.”

“I never said you couldn’t. I just don’t trust her and neither should you.”

“I don’t trust her.” Darceria softly shook her head. “How do you know Stregobor?”

Geralt held his breath for a moment. Then he moved to sit next to her, bending his knee just slightly. Darceria smiled at the feeling of him close to her. She leaned into him, settling into the front of his shoulder. 

Grief seemed to roll off of him in waves, making Darceria’s stomach churned. 

“Years ago, I came across a princess. Stregobor tried to hire me to kill her and she wanted the same done with him. He’d tried before to kill her and failed. I wouldn’t do either. I wanted nothing to do with the affair.” He paused, taking in a slow deep breath. “We crossed swords and I killed her.”

By the tone of his voice, Darceria could tell he wasn’t telling the entire story. He wouldn’t carry such guilt if he believed she deserved to die. There was something he wasn’t telling her.

“What was her name?” She asked quietly, her hand finding his knee. Her fingers started to brush gentle circles into the material of his trousers. 

“Renfri. Her name was Renfri.”

“You cared for her.” It was a statement but Geralt hummed in agreement anyways. 

“She was just…. Lost.” He leaned his cheek against her head. “Because of her, I’m the Butcher of Blaviken.”

“I much prefer the White Wolf.”

A little smile came to his lips. 

***

Geralt and Darceria took their time getting back to the tavern. There was no rush to be in the company of others when they enjoyed each other just fine. 

Darceria walked close to Geralt, her arm casually bumping against his. She could feel eyes on her, feel the gaze of those curious and judgemental.

The second they stepped foot inside the tavern, Darceria stopped. Her hand flew out to hold the first thing she could grab. This happened to be Geralt’s forearm. There was a pressure on her shoulders and her ears began to ring. She could hear her sister’s voice and smell her scent, sharp and sweet. 

“Darceria?” Geralt furrowed his brows together.

“She’s coming.” She breathed out, slowly releasing her tight grip on Geralt. 

“Who?”

“Gisela. Tonight, she will be here.” Darceria took a slow deep breath. The sound of her sister slowly disappeared and was replaced with the hum of the tavern.

***

Zephyrina was laying across the bed with her head in Jaskier’s lap. He brushed his fingers through her hair as he hummed softly. Ciri sat on the edge of the bed while Darceria was in a chair pulled up to the princess. She was tracing her fingers over Ciri’s palm, telling her of an ancient method oracles used to predict one’s future without having a vision.

Geralt stood at the only window in the room leaning against the sill, his eyes focused on the street below. He was watching for Gisela.

Zephyrina hadn’t said one word to Darceria in the last three hours. She was upset, angry even, that Darceria was keeping things from her.

“Give me one second, Ciri.” Darceria smiled softly at the girl then turned her head in Zephyrina’s direction. “Zephyrina? Could we maybe talk out in the hallway for a few moments?”

“We can talk right here.” Zephyrina’s eyes were closed as she spoke. 

“I think it’d be more appropriate for us to speak alone.”

Zephryina opened her eyes and lifted her head from Jaskier’s lap.

“I don’t want to keep anything from anyone. If you’d got something to say, say it in front of Jaskier and Geralt too. There’s no need to hide anything from them.”

“Now you’re just being childish, Zephyrina.” Darceria told her.

“Me? Childish? I’m not the one keeping secrets from my sister!”

“I know you’re upset that I haven’t been telling you everything-,”

“It’s not even that, Darceria.” Zephyrina sat up. “You’ve known me for more than ten years yet you’re acting like I can’t be trusted but the damned witcher can be!” She gestured to Geralt, who was now watching the two women. 

“It’s different with him, Zephyrina.”

“Why? I want to know why it’s different with him. You barely know him.”

Darceria said nothing.

“I love you, Darceria, and you know that. But just because he’s the first man that’s paid attention to you in years doesn’t mean you should be picking him over me.”

Again, Darceria was silent. She tilted her head down, white eyes staring blankly towards her lap. Then a sad smile pulled at her lips. 

“I’ve seen what happens if we continue down this road, Zephyrina, if you continue to be this way.” She lifted her head but didn’t look in Zephyrina’s direction. “And I can guarantee you won’t like the outcome.”

“Then fucking tell someone!”

“Z, calm down a little, love.” Jaskier tried to speak calmly to her but the dark haired woman was too fired up. 

“Dont fucking tell me to settle down, Jaskier. This is between me and Darceria.”

“You made this everyone else’s business by choosing to stay in here rather than go out into the hall like Darceria suggested.” Geralt was quick to snap at her. 

Just as Zephyrina was about to speak, Darceria cut her off.

“If you say what is about to come out of your mouth, Zephyrina, you’d be better off to just leave.” Darceria’s tone was harsh and cold. “I keep things from you because you can be close-minded.”

“Don’t turn this around on me, Darceria. This has happened since Geralt entered our lives!”

Darceria stood to her feet and clenched her hands into fists.

“Geralt is the only fucking one here who knows what it’s like to live with an abnormality! He knows of my world, he knows of monsters and magic! You don’t know anything. People pass us and they gaze at you because of your beauty but they stare at me because of my eyes! You can’t hear the whispers that I hear, the way people talk about me like I’m less than a living thing, Zephyrina.” Darceria’s voice cracked. “Geralt knows what I go through and I don’t have to explain it to him. I don’t have to be anything with him other than me.”

As tears pooled in her eyes and her heart hammered in her chest, Darceria continued on, facing the direction of Zephyrina. 

“I’ve seen your death countless times, Zephyrina. Prior to Geralt’s arrival into our lives, you were going to die a bloody and torturous death. It was going to be somewhere we traveled, somewhere we were going. I didn’t-I didn’t see where but I dreamt for three nights that you were bleeding out in the snow, your dress ripped and your body littered in bruises. But because Geralt and Ciri and Jaskier came, we had to go to Pont Vanis to see Yennefer and since then, I have had no dreams of your death.”

“His arrival has no correlation to your visions of me, Darceria.” Zephyrina spoke quietly. 

“Believe what you want, Zephyrina. You aren’t the oracle. You know nothing of the intertwined destinies in this room, of how intricate and necessary they are for the entire Continent.” Darceria smoothed out her skirt and brushed the tears from her cheeks. “I’m going downstairs to talk to my sister.”

“Are you going alone?” Jaskier asked.

“I am. She’d be more open to talking if I’m alone.”

“Be safe, Darceria.” Ciri told her. 

Darceria gave the girl a little smile before leaving the room.

“It’s a little scary how she knows all of our futures.” Ciri looked over to Geralt. “It’s a shame she can’t tell us anything about what she sees, of how our lives turn out.”

“She said if she tells us, then it would mess with that future she sees.” Jaskier said. “But she said the destinies in this room are intricate and necessary. What does that mean?” He looked to Geralt for an answer.

“I don’t believe in destiny.” He answered gruffly.

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot.” Jaskier almost rolled his eyes. “So what do you think about what Darceria can do? Is that all rubbish?”

***

Darceria could smell Gisela’s scent as she made her way down the stairs. Stregobor was also with her, sitting beside her at a table in the center of the otherwise empty room. 

“You’ve been crying, dear sister.” Gisela mused, tilting her head to the side as she watched Darceria sit down across from her. “What’s the cause of your tears?”

“Nothing to worry about, Gisela.” Darceria forced a smile on to her lips. “I’d like to know what happened, to know how you survived.”

“Mother introduced me to him. She said she trusted Stregobor. She knew something bad was going to happen but she wasn’t sure what. She said Stregobor would appear when it was time for me to leave. The night that all hell broke loose in the Palace, Stregobor was there.” Gisela’s eyes fell to the used table top. “He got me out before our dear father could kill me.”

“He never…. He never would’ve killed you, Gisela. He loved you.”

“He saw that I was going to be a better ruler than him and he couldn’t take it. His ego was too big. He’d never let a woman, let alone his own daughter, best him.” Gisela’s voice was cold and sent shivers down Darceria’s spine. Something wasn’t sitting right with her.

“What about Tissalo? Marrick told me that you killed him.”

“Marrick was under father’s command. Father could make him say whatever he wanted Marrick to say. That’s precisely how he was able to get Marrick to be with you.”

“I don’t believe for a damn minute that he didn’t love me.” Darceria almost growled. Hearing Gisela talk so crude and crass about her late husband was infuriating. “I saw our destinies intertwined. We were going to have children-,”

“Who would want children with a blind woman, Darceria?” Gisela cut her off, pressing one palm flat against the table. “You were too naive to see that he never loved you.”

Darceria shook her head, locking her jaw. Hearing these words come from her sister’s mouth burned Darceria’s chest.

“Enough about history, Darceria.” Stregobor spoke, his tone soft and deceiving. “I am here to talk about your future as the last oracle on the Continent. The oracle is the sister to the mage. Naturally, you belong within the Brotherhood.”

“I can assure you, Stregobor, that is not where I belong.” Darceria leaned back in her seat. 

“You don’t trust mages.”

“I’ve met a handful that I do trust. I just don’t trust you.”

“What if I were to tell you that I could give you sight? And I don’t mean the future. I can give you something you’ve never had before, Darceria.”

The oracle froze for a second, taking in the sorcerer’s words before she laughed. 

“There is no cure for my blindness. I was born with it.”

“Your friend and my fellow mage, Yennefer of Vengerberg, was born a hunchback.” Stregobor folded his hands together on the table. “Magic was able to heal her and make her normal.”

Darceria said nothing so Stregobor continued.

“I am not asking for a favor, Darceria. I just want what is best for you.”

“I’m not interested in what you think is best for me, Stregobor. You don’t know me.” Her tone was sharp.

Stregobor unfolded his hands and leaned back in his seat. He didn’t like her answer. 

“Well, if you aren’t willing to broaden your abilities as an oracle, then I suppose I can’t help you.” He stood from the table and exchanged a look with Gisela. 

Darceria listened to his footsteps fade away. 

“Witchers aren’t kind company, Darceria.” Gisela spoke softly. “I met one a few years back. He nearly took my head off.” Without warning, she reached across the table and grabbed Darceria’s hand. She flinched, unprepared for the contact. Gisela brought Darceria’s hand up to her neck, allowing the blind woman’s fingers to touch the jagged scar across the part of her neck where her pulse was found. 

“Geralt isn’t like any other witcher I’ve met.”

“Did he tell you that?” Gisela let her sister go, crossing her knees underneath the table. “I’ve never met a witcher worth my while-,”

“You rarely meet someone worth your while, Gisela.” Darceria cut her off. “You don’t know Geralt.”

“I don’t have to. I know his kind.”

Darceria’s hands curled into fists in her lap and she locked her jaw. 

“Has he told you he likes you, Darceria? He’s playing you, I’m sure of it-,”

“You think every man who gives me a second glance is fooling me.” Darceria stopped her once more. “You can say whatever you’d like to about me or our parents. I know they weren’t the greatest but they loved us. I will not, however, sit here while you say shit about Geralt of Rivia, a man you don’t know or care to know.”

Gisela didn’t like that Darceria was talking back and even getting an attitude with her. She had never done that when they were kids. Darceria was always quiet. She always took whatever Gisela had to say, whether it be cruel and harsh or joking and cold. 

“It’s getting rather late, sister. I need my beauty sleep.” Gisela spoke calmly. “I’ll see you around.”

Darceria listened as Gisela left the tavern. She didn’t move. Her hands were in her lap, fingers wound tightly around her skirt. Adrenaline was still coursing through her veins. She could feel the anger inside bubbling. 

***  
Geralt stepped out of the room, knowing very well that Darceria had been standing outside of the room for the last ten minutes. It was like she was afraid to go in, to be around the others. 

“Is everything okay?” He asked her, his voice quiet. She appeared frozen, tense, and spaced out. Her hands were folded together at her waist and her white eyes were focused ahead of herself. 

“I-I just….” Darceria shook her head, blinking and looking down. A few tears slipped from her eyes. She was quick to wipe them away. “I know you heard what happened.”

“I did. Her words aren’t worth shedding tears over, dove.” He murmured.

“I’m not crying because of what she said. I grew up with her harsh words and criticism of everything I do. I’m frustrated. I feel like there’s a million things going on but I-I can’t focus on any of them.”

“You should rest.”

“I won’t be getting any sleep tonight.” Darceria shook her head. “But I need to speak with everyone as a collective group.”

Geralt nodded his head gently and opened the door for her. 

Darceria brushed her hands over the material of her skirt as she stepped into the room. She took a few moments to figure out where everyone was. Jaskier and Ciri sat at a table. Jaskier was showing Ciri something on his lute. Zephyrina standing in a corner of the room, watching Jaskier and Ciri.

All eyes found Darceria, who stood near the doorway with Geralt just behind her. 

“I know you all have questions.” She started, deciding to clasp her hands together behind her back. “Things have been confusing lately and I would want clarity if I was in your shoes. I want each of you to trust me and to trust that I know what I’m doing when I say something.” Darceria took a soft deep breath. “This is a one time thing, but I will answer any questions that you may have.”

Jaskier looked from Zephyrina to Geralt while Ciri kept her eyes on Darceria. 

“I had so many questions but suddenly I can’t remember anything.” Jaskier muttered. 

“What about what you said earlier?” Zephyrina let her hands fall to her sides. “About the intertwining destinies in this room. What did you mean when you said that?”

“Each of us is connected by something greater than any singular person. Alone in this room, we have the last heir to the throne of Cintra and an extremely powerful source with a promising future, a man who is perhaps the greatest witcher to have ever been, and the only oracle left on the Continent.”

“So what you’re saying is…. Zephyrina and myself are useless and insignificant?” Jaskier raised his eyebrows and narrowed his eyes. 

“Far from it, Jaskier.” Darceria smiled softly. “You and Zephyrina both are far more important to us than I could ever explain.”

“Will things ever get better for us?” Ciri spoke so quietly that Jaskier and Zephyrina almost couldn’t hear her. “For me? Are we-Are we always going to have to be moving? To be running from Nilfgaard?”

“Right now, the entire North is on the run from Nilfgaard.” Darceria paused for a moment. “As for us moving from place to place, that will change in the near future. With that being said, I’d like to return to Pont Vanis.”

“Why?” Zephyrina drew her brows together.

“Yennefer.” Geralt’s hands fell to his sides as he looked at Darceria. “Don’t tell me you’re considering Stregobor’s offer, Darceria.”

“I’d like to talk to Yennefer before I make my decision.”

“What decision?” Jaskier leaned back in his seat. 

“Stregobor said that he could give me sight.” She murmured softly.

“Stregobor cannot be trusted, Darceria.” Geralt couldn’t help but get upset over the situation. 

Darceria said nothing. She didn’t want to bring up what he had told her in private. 

“Do you think he could give Darceria her sight back?” Ciri looked to Geralt. 

“It doesn’t matter if I think he can or can’t. I don’t trust him.”

“You think he can, don’t you?” Zephyrina furrowed her brows at him. 

Feeling the tensions in the room rise, Jaskier decided to intervene. 

“It’s getting late, guys. Why don’t we all head to bed? Call it a night, yeah?”

“That sounds lovely.” Darceria forced a smile on to her lips. “Come along, Cirilla.”

The oracle and the princess left Jaskier and Zephyrina’s room to go down the hall to the room Darceria and Ciri would be sharing with Geralt.

As Ciri was climbing into her bed, Darceria brushed a few curls behind her ear. She took a seat on the edge of the bed beside Ciri.

“Give me your hand, darling.” Darceria requested gently, tilting her head down just a little. Ciri placed her hand in Darceria’s. Darceria wrapped her fingers around Cirilla’s and held her tightly. “I can feel your fear, sweet child. I can feel how you worry about your future. But I can promise you that you have a bright one. There will be hardships but as long as you have Geralt and Jaskier by your side, you will be just fine.” The redhead spoke so softly and with such a warmth that Ciri almost started to cry. 

“I want you and Zephyrina there too.” Ciri whispered. Darceria said nothing as she brushed her fingers over the back of Ciri’s hand. 

“I can’t promise you that we will always be there but if there ever comes a time when you need us, we will be there for you.”

Ciri nodded her head softly, gripping Darceria’s hand. Ciri then turned her head to Geralt, who was walking into the doorway of the room. 

“Can I speak with you out in the hallway for a moment, Darceria?”

Darceria turned her head in his direction.

“Will you be okay alone for a few moments, Ciri?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” Cirilla nodded her head. 

***

Darceria pulled the door to the room shut behind herself. 

“I know what you’re going to say-,”

“Then you know why I don’t want Stregobor anywhere near you or anyone else here.” Geralt cut her off, keeping his voice low enough so his words wouldn’t travel. “If he learns that Cirilla is with me-,”

“He won’t, Geralt. I’d never give that away.” Darceria furrowed her eyebrows together just slightly. 

“He can’t be trusted, Darceria. What part of that do you not understand?”

She opened her mouth to speak but fell short of finding the appropriate words right then. A few heartbeats later, she tilted her head down.

“I-I may be able to have my sight, Geralt. I’ve never seen a damn thing except blurry outlines and hazy images. I want-I want to be able to see things like the trees and-and maybe even the ocean and watch the sun rise. I’d love to see people dance. It feels wonderful and lovely, and it sounds fantastic. I want to see my horse and see the smile on Zephyrina’s or Jaskier’s or even Cirilla’s face.” She paused for a moment, shaking her head softly. “I’d love to see you, to see the look in your eyes when you see me. Your heart beats a little faster when you look at me and your breathing deepens just slightly. I’d give anything in the world to see you.”

Geralt looked down at her for a few moments before he placed two fingers underneath her chin. He very carefully tilted her head up so he could look at her. Just as he was doing this, a couple tears fell from her eyes. He used the rough pad of his thumb to wipe the tears away. 

“I wish I could give you everything, dove.”

The new pet name was enough to make Darceria’s insides flutter and twist like there were butterflies in her stomach. She leaned into his hand and placed her hand on the back of his. 

As he leaned down to press their foreheads together, Darceria’s hand left his to cradle his jaw. Her fingertips brushed along his scruffy jaw, enjoying the scratchy feeling and the few ridges that were scars. 

“You’ve given me enough.”

He pressed a soft and tender kiss to her lips. It didn’t last long but it was enough to make Darceria lose her breath. 

“Are you still wanting to go to Yennefer?”

She could feel his warm breath against her face. He was still so closed to her, not wanting to move away. 

“I can go alone, if you’d rather not go. I’ll take Zephyrina.”

“If one of us goes, then we all go.” Geralt carefully pulled Darceria into his arms, wrapping his thick, muscular limbs around her. 

“That’s a very wise idea. We all are stronger together.” She rested her cheek against his chest. “It’s funny how it feels like I’ve known all of you for years but it has only been a couple weeks.”

“I could say the same for you.” He gently rested his chin on her head. 

“Funny how destiny works.”

His chest vibrated with a grunt. Darceria giggled softly.

“I don’t understand how you can not believe in destiny.” She pulled away from him but held his hand as she moved to go back into the room. “Especially when I can see it.”

“Just because you can see it, doesn’t mean it’s real.”

“You’re a stubborn one.” Darceria mockingly sighed. A little smile tugged at the corners of Geralt’s lips.

***

Hours had passed but neither Darceria nor Geralt could fall asleep. Darceria was on her side facing Geralt while he was on his back with one of his hands behind his head. 

“You never asked me a question.” Darceria murmured softly. She knew he wasn’t asleep. His heart was beating its normal slow pulse. When he slept, his pulse lowered even more. 

Geralt turned his head to look at her, his eyes adjusting perfectly to the dark. Her eyes were closed and her lips were parted. 

“Did you know about me before we met?”

She took her bottom lip between her teeth for a few moments. 

“Yes. I had visions of…. of us months prior to meeting you ten years ago.”

“What kind of visions?”

“Different ones.” A little smile tugged at her lips. She reached out to place her hand on his chest. “Of us in the woods at Pont Vanis where I went outside after Yennefer healed me. There were a few nights where I saw us sitting on the embankment like we did earlier today. There’s little things that I’ve seen, little moments that made me realize what we were going to be. I just don’t…. I don’t want to tell you. I don’t want anything to be rushed or forced.”

“Do you know…. Do you know how long we will last?” His words were a hushed whisper.

“That burden is mine to carry.” Darceria’s fingers curled into his chest just slightly as if she was afraid he’d leave. 

“Maybe I want to carry it for you.” His hand took hers and pulled it from his chest so he could kiss her fingertips. 

She shivered from the gentle touch. 

“I’ve seen us…. end in many ways. It’s too early to tell yet.”

Geralt nodded his head, humming softly as he squeezed her hand. He returned her hand in his chest but kept his fingers wrapped around hers.


End file.
